


I Will Fight This War For You (Hold On)

by Sethrine



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst and Feels, Arguing, Best Friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Scenes, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Grumpy Hank Anderson, Interrogation, Investigations, Jealous Connor, Kidnapping, Language, Minor Character Death, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Plot Twists, Poisoning, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Relationship Advice, Relationship Discussions, Revelations, Suspense, Torture, Unrequited Love, Worried Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethrine/pseuds/Sethrine
Summary: UNDER REVISIONS - Check chapter notes for updates"Our choices define us. Don't let them tear you in two."Your investigation into the string of deaths of both humans and androids takes a drastic turn when a victim is purposely left alive. The killer's intent is the same, to prove a point you have yet to figure out. The change, however, is the power of choice.Stress and exhaustion lead you astray as you and Connor are both thrust into a war between the mind and the heart. You can only hope everyone involved makes it out alive.For the "Torn in Two" Challenge, as posted by @tea-with-loki on tumblr.





	1. Broken, Crawl Back To Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to the "Torn in Two" Challenge, as posted by @tea-with-loki on tumblr!
> 
> Basically the challenge was to listen to the song "Torn in Two" by Breaking Benjamin, then create a fic using the song as inspiration. Now, I love me some Breaking Benjamin, and I kid you not, I listened to that song for 3 hours straight and came up with a solid idea that took hold of me.
> 
> So, here we go! Let me know what you guys think, and keep an eye out for the next update!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NOTE:** This chapter has been revised!

WB200 models were initially designed to be used for agricultural purposes, with an extensive knowledge of mass produce production as well as mastery of farm life. They were popular help in the south, but even more vital to maintaining a local agricultural economy within Detroit, which was hard enough within the city. After the peaceful revolution of androids for their rights over a year prior, nearly half the WB200 models retained jobs within the agricultural business while others went off to pursue different careers and opportunities.

The android sitting in the precinct's interrogation room had been part of the former group, his hands and clothes still smeared with dirt and mulch from a hard day's work. Along with that dirt, however, was the staining of both red and residual blue blood. It was startling, horrifying, and it was also one of the biggest breakthroughs in your investigation, thus far.

“He hasn’t said a fucking word,” Hank sighed. There was aggravation in his voice, and rightfully so. It wasn’t directed at the android sitting stark still on the opposite side of the two-way mirror, however, and you knew that. It had been a long week with, yet again, little headway into your current case, countless hours of searching through evidence only to come up with nothing conclusive. Hank was frustrated and tired, and you understood that all too well.

“I’m guessing Connor hasn't been in yet?” you queried with a sigh, arms folded loosely over your chest.

“Not yet,” Hank answered, his lips quirking as he looked to you. “Figured we could use a woman's touch, first. Don’t want to freak him out any more than necessary."

“Probably for the best,” you concluded, adding, “Reed hasn’t been sniffing around, has he?”

“He damn well better not! This is possibly our first viable lead in weeks, and I'll be damned if he sets foot in that room. I might have to shoot his legs out, myself, if I hear even a peep of him down the hall.”

“Hey, now, no need for all that. Besides, there are other ways to knock him down a peg, besides shooting off a limb.”

“Don’t I know it,” Hank muttered, glancing your way as you opened the door. He stopped you abruptly with the call of your name, your gaze peering at him over your shoulder, though finding he still had eyes on the victim.

“If you’re not up for it, we can get Connor in there, instead. It's been a rough week, and all; wouldn’t blame you for passing on this.”

You turned a bit more toward him, but his eyes remained on the android behind the observation pane.

“I’m good, Hank. I can handle it.”

“You sure?”

This time, he turned to face you, pale blue eyes soft even as he feigned indifference. You smiled at him gently.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried about me,” you teased lightly. Doing so only earned you a muted scoff and a wave of his hand in your direction.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get in there and do what you do best, before you start to piss me off with that smug mug.”

You left the observation room with a short chuckle, taking a brief moment thereafter to ready yourself while mentally going over the case facts in your head.

The WB200 - _Anthony_ was his name- was the first and only victim to be left alive out of a string of kidnappings and murders that had been taking place since the beginning of January. The latest crime scene was still being processed, but earlier investigation showed that whoever was behind the murders had stepped up their game. It was no mere coincidence that Anthony was left alive.

Something else was going on, something was missing.

God willing, you would find what you needed to within the hour. Even better would be if you could figure it out before the FBI decided to intervene, and with the sharp turn the case had taken, it was only a matter of time.

With a final shake of your head and a quick roll of your shoulders, you took a deep breath and gave an affirming nod to the officer standing guard by the adjoining interrogation room, entering slowly as you opened and closed the door using the handprint pad.

You scanned over the android sitting across the lone table, assessing the victim while taking a seat across from him. He was looking down at the smooth surface before him, motionless and unresponsive to your entrance. He hadn’t even acknowledged your presence, choosing to be standoffish and quiet. He wasn’t the first one to act in such a way, and he definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Your goal was to hopefully get him to become cooperative enough to help further the investigation. Forcing answers was out of the question, so you would have to try coercing and gentle persuasion.

“Hi, Anthony,” you began gently, a small smile finding its place on your lips. He remained stoic still, said nothing in return, but his silence didn’t hinder you. “My name is Detective (Y/n)(L/n), and I'd-"

You hesitated briefly as Anthony's head shot up, his eyes meeting yours for the barest of moments before he looked away once more. He seemed surprised, panicked, even, and it was so incredibly sudden that it had you momentarily confused.

“-I'd like to ask you some questions about what happened to you. If you’re uncomfortable, or if you would like to stop at any time, just let me know, alright? You’re not in any trouble; we just want to know what happened.”

Anthony glanced at you, his hands fidgeting within his lap. He gave a single, short nod after a lapse of silence, his gaze finally rising once more and focusing on you fully. You couldn’t help but chance a quick glance at the observation mirror, seeing only your reflection but knowing Hank was watching closely.

Something had changed. Anthony was being the most compliant he had been since being held in the interrogation room.

“Alright, thank you. Can you tell me what you were doing before you were taken?”

He hesitated, lips quivering in such a way that showed the grief he felt, the trauma of his experience. Had he still possessed the circular LED at his temple, you were certain it would be flickering between yellow and red.

“We…we were just finishing up, Lauren and I,” he began slowly. “End of the day tasks, the usual routine. She sets the sprinkler timers for the early morning watering and checks the temperature settings while I put away the tools. I didn’t even hear him…”

“Him?” you pushed carefully, urging Anthony to continue.

“It was a guy,” Anthony claimed, “thought he was human, at first, but he's definitely an android. That son of a bitch snuck up on me and did something – fried my core functions, I don’t know. Whatever he did, I was _gone,_ and then I was suddenly aware again, right in the middle of the greenhouse. He had us all tied up. He…he had Winny, and Lauren…shit, Lauren was strapped down, _tortured_ right in front of us! Her screams…her screams!”

“Anthony, hey, look at me.”

Anthony pulled his gaze back up to you, seemingly unaware that he had been clutching at his head, shaking as if trying to rid his memory of the awful event. You felt your heart lurch almost painfully in your chest at the look of utter fear in his eyes.

“It's okay, you’re safe, now, remember? I know this must be hard, absolutely terrifying, but I want to help you. I want to prevent this from happening to anyone else, but I need you to help me, help you.”

He slowly lowered his hands to the table, nodding once more even as his lips pressed into a fine line. “Yeah…yeah, okay.”

A quick minute passed as you allowed Anthony to calm down, letting him gather his bearings before continuing your questions.

“Can you describe him to me?”

“I couldn’t see much of him in the dark. He was pretty tall, over 6-foot, I think, had on a dark coat and jeans. Dark hair, strong jawline…that's all I could really make out, I’m sorry.”

“That’s good,” you assured him quickly. “Every little bit helps. Do you know why he attacked you?”

“No, no, we didn’t do anything to anyone. I kept to myself; Lauren couldn’t hurt a fly, even if she wanted to. Winny was outspoken, a little prejudiced against androids, but she never went out of her way to hurt anyone.”

“Did your attacker say anything that might have suggested otherwise?”

“I don't know,” Anthony answered with a confused grimace, “he only seemed interested in Lauren. He only ever addressed Lauren, until-"

Anthony became quiet once more, eyes wandering back and forth quickly as he processed his memories of the event.

“Until what?” you pressed carefully.

“Until Winny spoke up. It was after the third injection; he was going to give her another, but Lauren couldn’t handle it, agreed to whatever he kept whispering to her between them just to make him stop. Next thing I know, he's untying her and putting a gun in her hand.”

Anthony reached up and wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and it was then that you realized he was crying.

“Sh-she had to shoot one of us,” he said, voice now cracking. “Lauren had to make a choice, and the others would be set free. She had to choose to kill me or her own wife!”

His lips quivered, pressed real thin once more. He lowered his head then ran his fingers through his dark hair.

“I was so scared…we were all so scared. But if she didn’t choose, he was going to strap her down again, pump her full of blue blood until either the pain or the poison made her black out. If she didn't choose, he would have killed all of us.”

“Lauren didn’t kill her wife, did she?” you questioned softly. Anthony shook his head, his jaw clenching just as tightly as his eyes.

“Winny kept yelling at her to just shoot me, get it over with. But she never raised the gun at either of us. Lauren just…dropped, started begging to let us all go. He just pulled her up, started dragging her back to the table. And then Winny spoke up.”

There was anger in Anthony's eyes as they opened, a deep-seated fury that would have almost been terrifying had it not been mixed with the fear and hopelessness still present in his gaze.

“She volunteered to make the choice for Lauren, said she knew what he wanted from them. Said she would take the gun and shoot me without hesitation.”

“That’s why you thought he was human, at first,” you murmured, earning a small nod from Anthony. “Did he agree to let her make the choice?”

“He let her think she was making the choice,” Anthony replied bitterly. “He released her, told her she had one shot, but as soon as she moved to grab the gun from Lauren, he shot Winny in the head. Lauren freaked and shot at him; I-I think she intended to scare him off. She missed the shot. He didn’t.”

Anthony looked away, blinking rapidly in an attempt to fight back his tears. You gave him another minute to calm himself, knowing what could happen, should he stress himself too much. It was part of your job to ensure you gathered as much information as possible, but it still didn’t mean you felt comfortable grilling a victim for answers, even if it helped the investigation. You were just thankful he decided to cooperate with you.

“I just have a couple more questions, and then you’re free to go,” you said gently. Anthony looked back at you and gave a confirming nod.

“Do you have any idea why you, Lauren, and Winny were made targets? Any grudges, financial issues, maybe recent fights that could suggest who was behind this?”

“Like I said, Winny wasn’t exactly a saint, and she had her fair share of issues with androids, but she never acted out against them. And Lauren…she was kind. She pulled out the best in Winny…in anyone she met.”

“I have a friend like that,” you sympathized, mind wandering briefly to the image of Connor. “He has a way of making others smile, whether they planned on it or not.”

“Lauren did that, too,” Anthony murmured. “Always wanting…wanted...to make the world a little bit brighter. She was my best friend. She didn’t deserve this.”

“No, she didn't,” you agreed vehemently, reaching for one of Anthony's hands, “and we are going to do everything we can to find whoever did this and bring them down.”

Anthony gave your fingers a firm squeeze, nodding in quick, jerky movements. He took in a breath through his nose, unnecessary, but the action seemed to calm him greatly. At such pivotal moments, small comforts were important.

“Just one more question, Anthony. Is there anything, _anything_ else that you can think of that might help us figure out who did this? Any other defining features of the attacker, anything strange about the way he sounded, the way he talked? Maybe there was something he said that struck you as odd?”

Anthony became extremely still, his hand holding a steady pressure against yours. Whether he was being hesitant or thinking back, it was hard to say. Even his gaze seemed strangely void of anything, neutral in the most unnerving way. Then, whatever spell had been cast was suddenly broken, and his dark eyes were misty as he shook his head.

You glanced to the observation pane and gave a single nod before looking back. You gave yet another reassuring squeeze of your hand before letting go.

“Thank you for talking to me, Anthony. I know it wasn’t easy, but you’ve helped us come one step closer to catching this guy. Officer Monroe is going to escort you out to the lobby for one final official statement, alright? And if there is anything, any details you think of, no matter how insignificant they might seem, give us a call; you can ask for me, personally.”

“Of course,” Anthony agreed, standing along with you as the door to the interrogation room opened.

The officer standing guard outside the room stepped in, greeting Anthony kindly before extending his hand toward the door as a leeway for Anthony to follow through. He rounded the table as you came to the edge, his hand suddenly reaching out to yours again and gripping almost tightly around your wrist. From your peripheral, you could see Officer Monroe reach for his gun with the fear that something was going wrong, but the slightest shake of your head told him that you were alright, that things were under control.

“Detective,” Anthony whispered, voice nervous and concerned as he leaned closer to you, “please, be careful. Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two. He’s…he's watching.”

Anthony pulled away slowly, eyes narrowed with the same concern in his voice. You gave him the slightest nod, his grip on your wrist disappearing shortly after as he made his way out of the room with the officer right behind him. You were left to stand there, wide-eyed and confused, overwhelmed and suddenly afraid in a way you couldn’t describe.

You were startled by Hank's sudden entrance into the interrogation room, looking startled himself by what had just happened.

“You alright, kid? Damn near thought he was going rogue, or something, there at the end. Wouldn’t be the first time an android turned violent under stress.”

“I'm fine, Hank, really,” you assured in a rushed breath, feeling the air wasn’t nearly as thick with tension as it felt before. The older detective gave you a curious look, eyes narrowing warily.

“What did he say to you, just before he left? Couldn’t hear anything on my end."

You blinked several times, hand rubbing around the slight ache in your wrist.

“Nothing, really. He just said to be careful, is all; made me promise to bring in the bastard who killed his friend.”

Hank eyed you for a moment longer before letting out a heavy sigh.

“We'll get him. Come hell or high water, we'll get him.”

“I know we will, Hank,” you agreed, “I'm just hoping we can get this figured out soon. Last time the FBI got involved with an android-related case-"

“Yeah, don't remind me,” he groused, an instant understanding of what had happened over a year prior passing between you. You hadn’t been at the final demonstration, but the news coverage was enough to clue you in on what was happening, that things were about to change drastically. So far, it seemed for the better, but even good intentions had some hiccups.

“We better get back to Connor,” you suggested, swaying the conversation in a new direction. “Maybe he's gotten word from Markus.”

“Fat chance,” Hank grumbled, moving to the door and holding it open for you. You exited the interrogation room, Hank following close behind. “The guy's busier than our own nation's leader. Finalizing bills and documents, and all that boring paperwork shit higher-ups have to deal with. Kinda feel sorry for him.”

“Speaking of paperwork,” you teased, eyeing Hank with a smirk, “don't you have some documents to look over?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Hank bemoaned, though his heated exclamation was more for show than any ill-intent. You laughed at his expense, regardless. “I need a gallon of strong coffee to deal with this shit.”

Hank made a hard left toward the break room as soon as you both rounded the corner, leaving you to navigate your way to his desk, where you would inevitably be taking half the load of paperwork. As you maneuvered your way closer, you spotted Connor as his adjoining desk, sitting at the edge of his seat as his hands flicked a shiny quarter back and forth through the air. Calibrations during downtime, it seemed.

You smiled sweetly as you neared, your movement catching the android's eye. With a final flip of the coin and an impressive catch between his fingers, he pocketed the shining metal piece and sent a beaming smile your way. It never failed to make your heart flutter, that smile.

“Hello, Detective (L/n),” he greeted as you stood before him, leaning a hip against the edge of his desk. “I trust the interrogation went well?”

“Better than Hank thought it would,” you answered, clasping your hands in front of you. “The recording should be up in the system shortly, if you want to take a look.”

“Were there any complications?”

“Anthony was decidedly scared, angry, withdrawn, but became very cooperative when I went in to interrogate after complete silence with Hank and one of the other officers. I’m not entirely sure why.”

“You can be quite persuasive,” Connor replied, eyes bright and almost playful as his smile quirked ever so slightly to the right. The amused scoff that left your mouth was one of mild embarrassment, your eyes scanning the area around you briefly. No one else seemed to be paying attention to your quiet banter. Regardless-

“ _Connor_ ,” you warned lightly, his brow rising in mock challenge.

“(Y/n),” he mimed back, though the way your name fell from his lips was less a warning and much more playful. You laughed lightly, shaking your head at his antics as you rubbed over your wrist, unaware of the subconscious motion.

If Connor noticed, he made no inclination toward the action.

“Alright, quit trying to rile me up. Have you been able to contact Markus, yet?”


	2. A Tide Of War And Broken Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe the positive response to the first chapter alone! Thank you guys so much! I'm so thrilled to bring you this next chapter!
> 
> A lot more info in this chapter, plus some feels. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **NOTE:** This chapter has been revised!

The park was lovely during the early evening hours, the sun barely on its ending trek toward the horizon, ready to cast the baby blue sky in brilliant colors. Rays of sunlight bounced off patches of undisturbed snow in such a way that it twinkled gently as you swayed on your feet, shivering ever so slightly. The cold was embracing, honestly, and it had you feeling lively despite your current exhaustion. You had even taken a handful of snow earlier and pressed it to your face, the shock of the action waking you like nothing else.

Connor, however, had been unamused by your jittery antics and continued to be a worry-wart as you shrugged off another shiver. Between him and Hank, it was a wonder you hadn’t developed an ulcer on their behalf.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay in the car until they arrive? The temperature is twenty-four degrees and will continue dropping-”

“I’m fine, Connor,” you assured for the third time since coming to a stop at the park bridge, huffing out a laugh at his worried expression.

He'd begun fussing over you when you had woken up from a brief nap after last night's shift and had continued to do so nearly all day, much to your amused chagrin.

As expected, you had helped Hank with his paperwork and finished a few files of your own before heading home sometime around three that morning. Once back at your cozy abode, you'd taken to reviewing the interrogation video regarding Anthony. You sat for hours trying to pick apart what he had said, using the small nuances of his voice as well as his movements to help you better understand what he was trying to tell you right before he left the room.

_“Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”_

Sleep had been hard to come by during the past few weeks, but after last night’s turn in the case, you were lucky your body allowed you a brief two hours of uninterrupted sleep over your at-home desk before you were back into the case files with restless energy. The crick in your neck hadn’t been pleasant, though Connor had done an excellent job at massaging out most of the pain, despite his initial plan to most likely put you back to sleep with the soothing pressure.

“I believe it would be best to seek someplace warmer,” Connor urged, his words coming out in a rush, almost as if he were trying to hold back from saying anything more. “You’ve been stressed lately, which has drastically compromised your immune system's ability to-"

“Connor, sweetheart, I'm _fine,_ ” you insisted with a groan, effectively cutting off his rambling by turning toward him and giving an exasperated smile. “Look, I’m all bundled up in my big coat, and a scarf, and I’ve got a nice, hot cup of honey lemon tea warming my hands, since you so vehemently _urged_ me to lay off the coffee.”

You emphasized your words by holding up the paper container from the coffee shop you had stopped at before setting out to the park, giving the half-empty container a little shake. Connor looked sheepish, but still had the audacity to sigh heavily, the action completely unnecessary and only meant to showcase his slight frustration through action. You rolled your eyes at the theatrics, but smiled all the same.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’ll be in a nice, warm space as soon as we meet up with the others,” you placated, moving closer to place your head against his chest while wrapping your free arm around his back.

Connor returned your embrace rather quickly by pulling you even closer, snugly fitting you against him. He was warm and comforting through the thick layers of clothing separating you, and you realized a moment too late that he had planned your snuggles from the start, knowing you would want to comfort him after he became huffy over your own exasperation, and had purposely increased his core body temperature to warm you.

Having an analytical boyfriend who learned your every quirk had its ups and downs. In that moment, it had to be somewhere in the middle, seeing that you were both irked and endeared by the thought behind such a clever play of events.

“You are insufferable, sometimes,” you groaned, leaning into him more heavily. Connor only chuckled, knowing he had been caught.

“I think you enjoy it,” he said.

“Oh, no, you caught me,” you mumbled against his coat in a mock surprised tone, earning you a quick peck to the top of your head and, undoubtedly, a gentle smile.

Time seemed to slow as you relaxed fully into Connor's embrace, the warmth of his hug and the slow, smooth motion of his hand rubbing at your back lulling you with its comfort. Your eyes had slipped closed without your knowledge within seconds, and the cup of tea in your hand would have surely fallen, had your arm not been curled just so between you and Connor.

For a minute, you were blissfully falling into a fitting sleep against your clever boyfriend.

“Look at you two lovebirds!”

Startled, you pulled away from Connor and turned quickly, nearly dropping your tea with the sudden movement. Connor placed a steadying hand between your shoulders as your eyes focused fully on the small group approaching, a grin spreading across your face.

Simon was ahead of the pack, his bright blue gaze joyful as he rushed forward and pulled you into a hug. From over his shoulder, you could see North grinning at you, with Josh and Markus just slightly behind, talking to themselves as they approached.

The joyous laughter that escaped you couldn’t be stopped.

“Simon! It's so good to see you,” you exclaimed, pulling away to better look at him. He had a wide smile set in place, eyes crinkling as he looked over your features with extreme fondness.

You could remember a time when he had been leery of you, as had North. Markus had introduced you to his friends shortly after the revolution, and though it was a bit of a rocky start, you couldn’t dream of a better group of individuals to call your friends. Simon had been on the cautious side, afraid to trust, and you couldn’t blame him. Now, he smiled openly and shared his thoughts with you without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you so deeply.

“I’m happy to see you, too. It's been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Couple months, at the most,” you replied, “but who's counting?”

Simon gave a short chuckle, his hand sliding to your free one and giving it a gentle squeeze. You returned the gesture, watching his smile widen with the action. For a moment, he seemed content to just stand there, holding your hand without a care in the world.

He startled when North appeared beside him suddenly, placing a hand to his shoulder to gain his attention. She eyed him in amusement as he looked a bit flustered, his gaze darting back to you and briefly over your shoulder. He stepped aside quickly, smiling to you once more, albeit a bit more forced, allowing North to move in and wrap you up in her arms. You returned the embrace without much more thought on the strange interaction, humming pleasantly.

“Missed you guys so much,” you mumbled against her shoulder before pulling away with a huff of breath. She smiled genuinely at you, in turn.

“Can't believe we've been gone for so long,” she said, pulling away with a groan. “You wouldn’t _believe_ the shit we’ve had to sit through. Feels good to be back home for a little while.”

“Remind us never to go so long without seeing that smiling face of yours, again,” Josh intervened teasingly, swooping in for a hug of his own and a peck to your cheek, his attention turning immediately to Connor afterward to continue his greetings. You grinned at the affectionate attention from your friends before turning to face the last of the group, who stood before you, patiently awaiting his turn at pleasantries.

“Markus,” you called out warmly, watching his smile widen at your greeting. A gloved hand immediately came out before him, expecting a handshake, though your pause had him chuckling. You quirked your brow at him, amused, and watched as he changed tactics and held out both arms to you. You rushed forward and embraced him as you did the others, humming delightedly against his shoulder.

“No handshakes, only hugs,” you mumbled, pulling away to give Markus a good once-over. He was dressed warmly in a long coat, gloves made of soft leather, and though you knew that androids couldn’t quite feel the cold as humans could, the look was cozy and appealing. Goodness, but you had missed him.

“Business meetings have already trained me to greet with a handshake,” Markus said by way of explanation. “You know I meant nothing by it.”

“Of course,” you grinned, unable to keep your giddy happiness at bay. “God, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“As am I. I've missed you, just as much as the others have,” he said, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. His smile dropped then, expression a bit curious as his eyes roved over your features. “How have you been?”

“Alright,” you answered with a sigh, reaching up to pat at one of his hands to lessen any worries he might have had. Markus was always very good at picking up on things, and it didn’t help that your exhaustion was probably more obvious than you wanted to admit “This case has been an utter nightmare. Haven’t been sleeping as well as I could, but go figure, right?”

Markus hummed at your answer, eyes roving over your features curiously. He had always been like that as long as you’d known him, curious and eager to learn, always wanting to be better, _do_ better, in hopes of being half the man his father figure had set him out to be.

You knew, without a doubt, Carl would have been so proud of everything he had done and what he would continue to accomplish.

“Perhaps you'll rest easier tonight,” Markus said softly, hands leaving your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how warm the leather had been against your cold skin, almost instantly missing the touch.

You watched as Markus' gaze moved and lingered behind you, his expression becoming a bit more serious. You turned to the side, finding that Connor was approaching with an equally serious look upon his face. He gave a short nod after a lingering silence.

“Hello, Markus.”

“Connor. You look well,” Markus replied, earning a small lilt of a smile. Connor then reached forward and clasped arms with Markus, a mutual greeting they had with each other, before pulling away with a more genuine grin. Any perceivable tension all but vanished between them, leaving behind a much friendlier atmosphere.

“How have negotiations been?” Connor asked.

“As well as can be expected. Our rights are within our grasp, though lacking several signatures to finalize the documents. A permanent Bill will be enacted by the end of this week, and a list of laws, including any unjust action toward androids, will follow soon after its signing.”

“Good to know,” Connor commented. “I know how difficult it must have been, but the laws couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time.”

“So I've heard,” Markus replied, eyes growing hard. “You mentioned things were suddenly more complicated with your investigation.”

“Moreso than we initially thought, unfortunately.”

“Alright, then. Perhaps we could continue this discussion somewhere more private, and preferably more warm for (Y/n)?”

“That sounds fantastic, actually,” you butted in, pausing at the affronted look Connor was giving you. “What?”

“At least you take _someone's_ advice,” he said, his tone playful despite the disbelieving face he was pulling. You rolled your eyes yet again, reaching for Connor and linking your arm with his. Behind you, Josh was making some sort of comment, most likely one at your expense, before being effectively cut off by a jab of Simon's elbow into his side.

“There's a public library nearby,” Markus spoke up. “We can talk there.”

\------

The upper section of the library had its own lounge area, the perfect, quiet place to discuss things with your company without others interfering. It helped that the staff was very cooperative, ensuring that the upper floor remained off-limits until you were all ready to leave. The group took to their own areas of comfort; Markus and Connor stood across from the lounge you, North, and Simon sat upon, while Josh leaned against the back of a chair to your left. You had even taken off your coat and scarf, placing them within the empty chair at your right.

Everyone was focused as you and Connor relayed information pertaining to your current investigation, vital info they were privy to only because of the person of interest and the victims involved in the cases.

“So the suspect is an android,” Markus stated, having processed the majority of what you and Connor had explained. “You're sure of this?”

“Anthony seemed genuine when describing his attacker,” you responded in affirmation. “We had previously profiled him as human, but Anthony was very clear to establish the suspect was an android."

“This is very unprecedented,” Markus murmured, brows furrowing in confusion. “It would make more sense if your suspect was human, but an android attacking other androids in such a manner…I can’t deny there have been a few problems with our transition into society, but nothing this extreme.”

“Problems? Have there been android-on-android attacks?” you questioned, shocked. Surely the DPD would have picked up on some of the crimes, and even if you hadn’t been assigned to them, surely there would have been talk about androids going at each other, especially among the more intolerant officers.

“Nothing that led to any physical violence,” North spoke up from beside you, which affirmed your lack of knowledge on the matter. “Just verbal attacks on differing opinions, some minor backlash between those wanting to lash out at humans and those understanding that it will take time and careful effort to normalize our lives.”

You supposed it made sense. Not all androids would be up for a peaceful resolution, especially after the way a good majority of them had been treated by those humans they were made to obey. North, especially, had once been on track with violence, as she had believed there was no other way to reason with humans. Still, most seemed to side with Markus and the careful, civil approach he was taking to ensure all androids had all the rights of a human being.

“Ever since our peaceful victory,” Markus continued, “we’ve maintained a close network between many of our people to ensure safety. We all have a common goal, and we have, thus far, continued on the path of civility so that we may all live amongst each other comfortably in the foreseeable future."

“Well, someone obviously didn’t get the memo,” you deadpanned, throwing back the last of your lukewarm tea before tossing the paper cup into a nearby trashcan with a mild grimace.

“Hold on, wouldn’t we have heard something from one of our informants?” Josh questioned in disbelief. “I mean, it feels like _someone_ would have noticed something off, especially to this magnitude.”

“Not necessarily,” Connor answered. “If we believe our suspect to be an android, it's highly possible he's someone within our circle. He would be harder to detect when under the trust of the very man who led the revolution, and it would be much easier to keep a low profile.”

“Is it possible that there’s more than one person behind everything?” Simon asked, throwing out an idea.

“Unlikely,” Connor shut down quickly. “No previous evidence hints at more than one suspect, and with Anthony's testimony taken into account, there is nothing else to suggest multiple offenders.”

Ideas and concerns continued to bounce around the group, valid points being brought up only to get squashed by conflicting evidence to the contrary. It was a confusing mess, just as it had been from the start, and it felt like the case was, once again, coming to a dead end.

You sighed through your nose, closing your eyes as you tried to piece together what you already knew in the vain hope of figuring out _something_ that would help.

The suspect was currently being considered an android that was kidnapping both humans and androids. From the first two cases, there were two victims each, where the victims knew each other in some manner. The third case added an extra victim, human, but the setup was the same: one victim was tortured with small injections of blue blood while the others were made to watch.

The motive was still unclear, but to you, it felt like the suspect was sending a message. The first two cases might have been just practice rounds, and the third was possibly the suspect adjusting the variables, perfecting his method by adding something the other two cases didn’t have.

“A choice,” you whispered, eyes opening in mild confusion. Anthony's parting words to you began to play in your head yet again with the small revelation.

_“Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”_

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?”

You turned at the sound of your name and the gentle touch of a hand upon your knee, finding Simon looking at you in worry. You hadn’t realized you were being so quiet and pensive as everyone else dove into the discussion. Even now, North was bringing up some sort of misunderstanding between an android and human she had overheard, the topic clearly having redirected itself in some way, as both Josh and Markus corrected some of her exaggerated details.

“Yeah…yeah, I'm good,” you answered quietly, not wanting to interrupt the others.

Simon's light grip on your knee tightened, a gentle prodding for you to talk to him. You sighed again, smile weary as you placed your hand over his and took hold of his fingers. Your friends sure were good at figuring you out, and Simon...you could tell Simon anything.

“I'm exhausted,” you murmured sincerely, reaching up with your free hand and rubbing at your dry, aching eyes. “This whole investigation has me so anxious to solve it. I can’t sleep, not for very long, at least, without the details running circles in my head. I'm constantly queasy, and my head aches, but I just want to catch this guy before more people get hurt.”

Simon gave a small hum of sympathy, his hand twisting in yours until he was able to smooth his thumb along your knuckles. The motion was grounding, calming, something he had taken to doing during times you were in distress. The action never failed to ease your racing thoughts.

“It must be hard to have all these details on your conscience,” he said, “but you need rest. It's not safe to be so tired, especially in your line of work.”

“I know,” you admitted, words grumbling in your frustration. “I just…I wish I could piece all this stuff together and figure out why this guy is doing this. Everything’s just a big mess right now in my head.”

“Maybe you could try bouncing ideas off me? I know we’ve technically been doing that already with everyone else, but…maybe it would help having just one person to talk to, instead of five talking over you.”

You looked up at Simon, his gaze still showing concern, but just as equally, there was an eagerness there to help in anyway he could. Smiling, you leaned toward him and bumped your shoulders together in a friendly manner.

“Yeah, okay. Can’t hurt to try, I guess.”

Simon smiled gently, fingers squeezing yours before his thumb continued the slow, methodical movement across your knuckles once more.

“Okay, tell me all the details again.”

\------

Across the way, Connor watched you. His eyes roamed over the scene before him as if he was looking over evidence for analysis. He lingered on your hand clasped in Simon's own, how he touched your skin with gentle, unending strokes. You were speaking quietly with him, leaned in close, body relaxed and comfortable within the other's presence.

He realized quickly that what he felt at that moment was jealousy. Connor knew that, when it came to Simon in particular, he felt jealous because of your easy relationship with the other android. He hated that he could feel such a way over someone you both considered a friend, but it was there, an ugly beast of an emotion that clawed at him from deep within, stuttering his thirium pump and twisting his inner mechanisms with vicious intent.

Connor had only felt such a way a handful of times, flashes of heated envy over something that was so trivial in every sense of the word. Honestly, it seemed petty to be jealous over a friendship that brought you ease, a friendship that you had truly felt most comfortable in.

But he could not help the way his emotions were swayed when it came to you. He didn’t like the way Simon sent almost longing gazes in your direction, as if hoping you would notice his stare as more than friendly. He didn’t like that Simon touched you so freely, and you did nothing to deter him. He especially didn’t like how close the other android was to you at that moment, talking with you in a way that seemed much too intimate, a sight that sent his inner processors whirring with a deep seated feeling. Frustration? Maybe anger?

The L.E.D. at his temple was blipping a constant red as his mind reeled into dangerous territory.

_Stop_.

Simon needed to stop. He needed to stop _right now-_

“How long has it been, Connor? Seven months?”

Connor blinked once, twice, the clench of his jaw releasing as he registered Markus' voice from beside him. He was asking a question, a question he was easily able to pick up on. He blinked a third time, tilting his head ever-so-slightly, though keeping his eyes on you. The red at his temple flickered to yellow, retaining the color for the time being.

“Almost eight,” he answered, voice sounding a bit rougher, the barest hint of interference stuttering his words. He hadn’t realized how absolutely _wrecked_ he was becoming until his thoughts were interrupted. _Seething_ sounded adequate, but he didn’t believe he was that angry…didn’t want to admit it.

“Eight months,” Markus repeated quietly, his echoed words sounding reverently amazed in the best way. “It doesn’t seem like it's been that long, does it? Then again, it feels like forever, being with the right person.”

Markus turned to look at Connor, mismatched eyes narrowing in a serious manner as his brow furrowed.

“You’re lucky to have each other in this time of change. It's easy to see how much you care for her, how much she cares for you. As long as that feeling is there, nothing will tear you apart, not even what your eyes assume is there right before you.”

“I…”

Connor hesitated, his own brow furrowing, doubting. His gaze on you faltered, eyes closing momentarily with self-doubt. He grimaced.

“Have you told her, yet?”

Connor's eyes opened once more, his head slowly turning toward Markus. For a brief moment, Connor’s façade crumbled away, his brief expression conveying the underlying issue behind everything he was feeling. Markus' own eyes widened a fraction, understanding what Connor was saying without speaking a word.

“You're afraid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor harked defensively, looking away from Markus and hiding behind another spark of what he would call anger and definitely _not_ embarrassment. He felt stupid for letting such emotions get the best of him, for letting such things as self-doubt and jealousy completely ravage his systems and lead his thoughts down dangerous paths of action he did not want to take.

Breaking Simon's fingers was not only uncouth and absolutely not a good thing, but it would also upset you greatly. Connor would be upsetting himself if he so much as humored the sudden, brash thought longer than the blip of a second it took to think it, and yet it was still a thought he had come to.

What was wrong with him? Was jealousy always such a potent feeling?

“Simon is a good friend,” Markus went on, ignoring Connor's outburst in favor of continuing his talk with Connor.

“I know that,” Connor conceded.

“Then you must also be aware that she and Simon have a special bond in their friendship, one that was earned mutually through trust and understanding. The best of friends, those two. They can tell each other anything without fear of judgement or worry that their secrets will be spread.”

“I'm…aware.”

“And it scares you to know she can be so free and open with someone else, can _rely_ so heavily on someone else. Your fear holds you back, doesn’t it?”

“I…I don’t want it to,” Connor admitted softly, his voice sounding small as the root of the issue was carefully prodded and plied open by Markus' doing. He looked to you again, watching your tired expression light up at something Simon had said.

He felt helpless when there was nothing to feel helpless about. You were with him, happy with him; at least, he believed you were. You hadn’t expressed anything contrary to that belief, nothing that outwardly expressed any dissatisfaction within your relationship or a want for something he could not readily provide.

Then why was he so…so _scared_ to lose you?

“Simon is infatuated with her,” Connor muttered, the words almost leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, an odd sensation he would have to dissect later. “He shows all the signs of interest. They would…work well together.”

“In another life, maybe so,” Markus agreed, not dissuading Connor's observation. “But she chose _you,_ Connor. She saw something in you that no one else had. She adores you; Simon knows that. He would never hurt either of you in that way. Just like you and me, he only wants what is best for her.”

“I know,” Connor repeated quietly, and Markus smiled.

Markus was worried for a moment, but talking Connor through his feelings seemed to help the detective. He wasn’t nearly as tense as before, and though Markus could tell his friend was still suffering through a combination of emotions, he had peace of mind knowing he had helped Connor better understand the situation presented to him. Even his L.E.D. was flickering between yellow and blue, his thoughts still muddled, but calming quickly.

“You should tell her,” Markus spoke, clasping a hand to Connor's shoulder with the suggestion. He met Connor's gaze, smile quirking the corner of his lips at the hesitant nod his friend gave him.

Markus pulled away just as North took notice that something was amiss, though he gave a slow, single nod to assure her all was well. She looked relieved, though as her eyes looked behind him to Connor, she frowned in confusion.

“Connor?”

\------

You looked up from Simon as North called out to your boyfriend, eyes looking to her, then Connor, who was blinking rapidly as his temple held a steady stream of yellow. You recognized the action as an incoming call and jumped up immediately, moving toward him with an anxious flutter in your gut. Just as you reached him, he regained focus, deep brown eyes looking to you in surprise as he called out your name quietly.

“What do we got?” you asked, watching his face contort into mild concern before smoothing out into a neutral expression. Vaguely, you felt as if you missed something, but you ignored the feeling in favor of Connor's following words.

“Another murder, same set-up as last time, though the officers on-call are only confirming one dead, and nothing more.”

“Shit,” you muttered disdainfully, looking to Markus and the group with an apologetic expression.

“We understand,” Markus spoke calmly, “I'm sorry we couldn’t be of more help to the investigation.”

“Just being able to talk to you guys was enough for me,” you said, pulling him into a hug he was all too prepared to reciprocate. You moved around the room and did the same with the others, aware of Markus and Connor talking behind you.

“Please, keep us updated on the investigation. If there's anything more we can do to help, _anything,_ you know how to reach me.”

“Of course, Markus.”

You pulled away from your final embrace with Simon, turning toward Connor and pausing. He looked hesitant, almost troubled, his brows furrowed and the slightest frown against his lips. You noticed the flicker at his temple, noting the color was still yellow, cautious and inquisitive.

“Connor, what's wrong?”

His eyes instantly snapped to you, the L.E.D. flickering once more before becoming a steady blue. His expression relaxed somewhat as he reached for your hand, your fingers intertwining with his without hesitation.

“Nothing, sorry. We should get going.”

You nodded carefully, confused by his suddenly odd demeanor. Again, the feeling of having missed something was rearing in the back of your mind, but there were more pressing matters at stake. If Connor didn’t want to talk about it now, that was fine. You knew he would eventually come to you for whatever was troubling him.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as you pulled away briefly to grab your coat and scarf, bundling up cozily and taking his hand once more. You gave a gentle tug as you started up a quick pace toward the stairs, giving Markus and the others a final wave as you made your exit.

“Connor, wait!”

At the call of his name, Connor stopped, forcing you to come to a halt in front of him. You both turned to find Simon had rounded the lounge, seeming surprised by his own outburst. He looked almost indecisive about continuing his train of thought, eyes closing as he took a steadying breath.

“Please…make sure she gets some sort of sleep later. You and I both know how stubborn she can be, but I figured, maybe, you could be just a bit more stubborn, this time.”

The room was quiet. Connor and Simon stared at each other, and though you couldn’t see Connor's expression, the interaction made you nervous in a way you couldn’t explain. Then, Connor gave a small sigh, the action alone breaking the strange, heavy tension with ease.

“I will.”

Simon smiled at the promise, and you were sure it was a promise, unspoken but there. It was Connor's turn to lead you away, as you remained momentarily frozen in your place, unsure of what exactly had just transpired before you.

“What are you guys up to, huh? Doing some sort of secret-android-mind-reading? Conspiring against me?”

Connor chuckled, actually _chuckled_ , at your faux put-upon questions, turning to look at you with a smile as soon as you both made it down the stairs. It was a complete 180 turn from his previous mood, and it had you nearly reeling at the change.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he answered, and you believed him.

For whatever crazy reason, that last-second exchange had put him at ease. You would have to thank Simon next time you had the chance to talk to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the continued support! Let me know what you guys think! I love your feedback.
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


	3. Embrace The Life Of Tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things take an unexpected turn in this chapter, though some of you probably already had an idea as to where things may have been going. 
> 
> A super fun chapter to write! Intense, for sure. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **NOTE:** This chapter has been revised!

Connor had insisted he drive to the scene with the promise of stopping once more by your favorite coffee shop for _actual_ coffee. He wasn’t surprised that you had taken the offer; you would have let him drive, regardless, but a little extra incentive only ensured any bullheadedness on your part wouldn’t dissuade you. He was even less surprised to find that you had promptly fallen asleep as soon as you had gotten comfortable, head leaned against the seatbelt holding you in place and hands limply folded in your lap as you snored lightly.

A deep frown etched its way across his face with each worried glance he took.

He couldn’t help but fret over your clear exhaustion and how it was affecting you. You had been avoiding the issue for some time, roughly a week, and each day without proper rest only left you drained, slow, and even harder to reason with. Stubbornness was a natural trait, but your complete lack of self-care and any attempts at others helping you being met with full-force resistance was becoming a problem that was difficult to work around.

The investigation was eating away at you, consuming you so completely that it was taking away your sleep, stressing you to the max. At the rate you were going, if Connor couldn’t figure out a way to get you to at least take a full day of rest, it was only a matter of time before your body shut itself down.

Whether you realized it or not, you were on the fast track of killing yourself in a slow, agonizing way.

His grip tightened against the wheel, jaw clenching as he willed the thought away. It was too distracting, too extreme of a notion for him to brood about on top of everything else going on. There was no time for what-ifs, especially when there was a crime scene awaiting their presence, a full-on investigation waiting for them to solve.

Connor sighed, if only to feel the motion and release the tension in his shoulders.

In truth, thinking that way made him feel something he couldn’t describe completely, only knowing that it was an ache that almost felt physical, crushing and deep. The longer he thought about it, the more it made a sense of panic rise within him, a restless fear making itself known and becoming stronger the longer his mind reeled.

To lose you to something so trivial, to something that could easily be prevented-

To _lose you_ -

Flashing lights pulled him out of his thoughts, the multiple police cars coming into view a sign that he had arrived at the correct destination without even realizing it. He parked near the curb just ahead of the other vehicles, hand reaching for the key and hesitating.

He looked over to your sleeping form, watched as your chest slowly lifted and fell with your deep, even breaths. In total, the car ride hadn’t been any longer than fifteen minutes, not nearly enough time for you to even enter a steady REM sleep. If anything, waking you would do nothing but progress your stress level, of which was much, _much_ too high, already. Had you not been the resilient sort, you would have surely already crumbled. It was a wonder how you kept yourself going.

Leaving you in the car wasn’t an option, unfortunately, not one that would end well, should you miss out on key details with your own eyes. Though he would much rather you be mad at him for letting you sleep, he knew how important this whole thing was to you, could see just how tirelessly you were working to ensure no detail was missed, neglecting your own health in favor of upturning every stone for any sliver of information that would help solve the investigation.

It almost pained him to completely turn off the car and reach for you, shaking you gently by the shoulder. There was barely a moment of contact before you were breathing in suddenly and popping up, eyes blearily looking around before you reached up to aggressively rub at them to clear your sight. Anxious, even in sleep, enough that any slight touch easily pulled you back to the waking world.

“We here?” you asked, words slightly raspy from your short slumber.

“Yes, we just arrived,” he answered softly, earning a sleepy grin. He returned the gesture, but if his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, you couldn’t seem to tell.

“Thanks for driving, Connor. Not sure if I would’ve been able to focus completely. My eyes have been so weird, lately.”

“Of course, it was no trouble,” he answered.

“Let's get this over with, shall we?”

Connor watched as you unbuckled and reached for the door handle before stepping out, frowning once more at your resilient, stubborn nature.

The coffee he had promised you, or lack thereof, hadn’t been mentioned, and Connor wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or concerned at the realization.

\------

“Hey, Stella,” you greeted the officer standing by with a strained grin, tired eyes taking in the outside of the building you were called to. A rundown complex, most likely having been in the works to become apartments, but it was apparent construction had ceased a long time ago, and what had already been built was left behind in favor of bigger projects in much more sustainable, profitable areas. It was definitely the perfect place to commit a murder; secluded, empty, and easily ignored by everyday travelers.

“Detective (Y/n), Connor,” Stella greeted politely, giving a nod as incentive to move through the yellow holographic police line that barred the public, should there be any, from crossing into the scene of a crime. She was a sweet girl, kind almost to a fault, a bit stiff with her speech, but still one hell of a policewoman. After the revolution, she had been one of the first androids, outside of Connor, to be hired on at the DPD. It had taken several months of absolute garbage paperwork, but you, as well as a good percentage of the precinct, were happy to have her on board.

“He couldn’t have picked a better place to torture his victims,” you muttered, gaze roaming back to Stella. “Any recent details come up?”

“Only one victim has been found and identified as Braxton Hughes, age thirty-two, discovered by a squatter, who frequents the building, approximately one hour and forty-six minutes ago. I’ve heard nothing more regarding the scene.”

“Has Lieutenant Anderson arrived yet?” Connor asked, earning somewhat of a frown from Stella. That was never a good sign, especially from her, and it had you instantly anxious.

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant Anderson was on another call and has yet to arrive.”

“Are we the first detectives on the scene, then?” you questioned next, feeling your stomach twist unpleasantly at the hesitant shake of Stella's head.

“I’m afraid an attempt to contact you was…dismissed briefly by Captain Fowler in favor of allowing another able detective to take charge. I…I may have contacted Connor, regardless.”

At least you could count on Stella to keep you in the loop. But the way she was avoiding telling you who exactly was on the scene filled you with dread. You already knew, it was incredibly obvious, but you wanted to be sure. You wanted to be _wrong_.

“Who's in there, Stella?”

She hesitated again, lips parting, but voice unheard. She looked to you, then Connor, then looked straight ahead to avoid your intense stare.

“I believe he sent Detective Reed-"

“Son of a bitch,” you groused under your breath, rushing into the building as the feeling of dread and anger built within you. Connor muttered a curse behind you, his steps quick as he followed you down the long hallway toward the scene of the crime.

“Wait!”

He reached out and tried to slow you down, restrain you with a grip on your arm, but you pulled away quickly and stepped beyond the second to last entranceway on the left where yet another officer was on stand-by. Connor made no other move to stop you this time, but remained close, knowing that there was a possibility things could go bad.

Your eyes roamed over the scene, picking up bits and pieces that had a very similar look to the previous case that Anthony was involved in. Your focus, however, directed itself to the crouched detective in front of the dead victim bound to a chair. Your anger simmered to the surface as you stomped toward your target.

“Gavin!”

You were inwardly pleased to see the mouthy detective jump up from his crouch, looking momentarily bewildered. That was before his expression smoothly transitioned into a smirk, gloved hands folding across his chest. You hated that such a simple look had you practically seething.

“Well, well, well, look who showed up! I gotta say, (Y/n), I thought you had better things to be doing, since you weren’t here, and all.”

He was baiting you, as he always did. It was as if Gavin never fully enjoyed himself unless he was pissing off others in some way. You ignored his half-assed attempt of riling you up for the time being in favor of getting straight to the point.

“What the hell are you doing here, Reed? This isn’t your investigation, last time I checked, and you damn well know it.”

“Calm down,” he drawled, unfazed by your outburst, “I was the only one available when the call came in. Can’t get pissy if no one else on your team was around to do the job.”

“How did anyone know I wasn’t available if I never got the call, huh? Connor didn’t even get a call, not until your trigger-happy ass was already on scene, apparently.”

“Last I heard, you and your boy toy were supposed to be running around with plastic dignitaries all day,” Gavin mocked, eyes narrowed in distaste. You glared right back with equal disgust at his words, forgetting you were supposed to be taking the high road. It wasn’t professional in the least, fighting over the corpse of a man who, most likely, didn’t deserve to die, but you couldn't… _wouldn't_ …back down, not when you had done so every time before.

Gavin had given you more than enough reason in the past to fight against him, and you didn't, finding that you had far better things to do than take the bait he so flauntingly held before you. Your job was more important than petty arguments and one-sided rivalries. This time, however, you were just tired enough to not give a damn; to hell with the consequences!

“So, you suggested to Fowler to let you on site of a case pertaining to _my_ investigation instead of even attempting to contact me, is that it?”

“Well, while you’re out playing around, some of us are actually _trying_ to solve murder cases. You know, _saving lives_ , and all?”

“Like you really care,” you spat, fingers curling against your palm, your insides trembling with the need for action. “You’re only interested in gaining approval through backhanded means! Can’t be bothered with petty crimes, don’t care if you have to undermine others, so long as you’re up Fowler’s ass and getting all the recognition you don’t deserve!”

Gavin scoffed, and rolled his eyes, your fists shaking at your sides. You were hardly aware of the other people in the room, several officers taking cautious interest at your heated exchange, Connor immediately behind you as you stepped closer, all waiting for something more to happen. It had been a long time coming, and your usually squashed down frustration and contempt were beginning to completely override your system.

“That's real rich, coming from you,” Gavin egged on, unaware -possibly uncaring- of the tight rope he was walking. “You think you’re some special snowflake because you had a hand in this android revolution shit. And now what? You play secretary, as if what you do even matters! Bet it really bothers you, knowing that you’re only something because a couple of plastic pricks figured out how to use you like the puppet you are-"

You didn’t bother listening to the rest of what Gavin had to say. As it was, you barely had control of your own actions; your fist was already flying through the air before you registered you were even moving, and it wasn’t until the satisfying feeling of your knuckles slamming home into Gavin's face that you realized Connor had called your name in an attempt to stop you.

All at once, people were in a frenzy to quell the confrontation. Connor had immediately wrapped his arms around you as you struggled against him, all practical sense gone in favor of wanting to get at Gavin, to direct your overflowing rage onto him. Several officers had stepped between you and Gavin as he made a ruckus, cursing and holding the side of his face with anger.

“Get her the fuck out of here!”

Connor had already begun backing out of the room, ensuring the officers watching that he would be able to handle you, even as you fought him with flailing limbs and sharp words.

“Let me go, Connor! Let me fucking _go!_ ” you shouted, attempting to lunge out of his arms with sharp, thrashing movements. His grip on you was firm, however, and within seconds, he had you halfway back down the hall as you shouted and continued to fight his grasp.

“Calm down! This isn’t like you, at all!”

Connor’s loud, deep voice registered through your haze of infuriation, and almost as quickly as you had lashed out, you were still in his arms. Your breaths were ragged and deep, brows furrowing in mild confusion at your own actions.

What in the world had you done?

“I don't…I don’t know what came over me,” you rasped, legs shaking as the adrenaline from your encounter with Gavin began to dissipate rapidly. You could feel Connor’s hold relax around your body, though his arms remained holding you for the time being, afraid that you might make a run for Gavin, should he let go.

“You lost control, in there,” he said, not meaning for his words to come out in such an admonishing tone. If anything, he was more shocked that you had acted out in such a way, especially since you were easily able to deflect Gavin's usual mocking and snide comments. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know…I wasn’t,” you said quietly, voice sounding small, even in your own ringing ears. With the adrenaline having run its course, you could feel the heated sting of your hand where you had punched Gavin, the knuckles swollen and red. There were a lot of things you could feel without the numbing rush of contempt clouding your judgement, such as the prominent burn in your dry, tired eyes, the pounding ache in your skull, the building churn of your stomach climbing higher and higher-

“Connor, let me…I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Connor released you at the first weak pull against his arms, and you immediately rushed toward the exit, only making it as far as the steps leading to the second story before the meager contents of your stomach were suddenly on the floor. You sucked in air sharply, spitting the bile from your mouth as you attempted to keep any dry heaving at bay with careful breaths. The gentle pressure of a hand at your back almost startled you, causing you to tremble and let out a soft noise of distress.

“You're ill,” Connor stated, large brown eyes studying you carefully, analyzing.

“I'm alright,” you assured, spitting one last time and taking in a deep, steadying breath. There was the barest pain in your stomach, and you cursed yourself for jinxing the idea of an ulcer earlier at the park. It was more a probability, ironic as it was, and getting so worked up was only going to exacerbate the issue.

“You are _not_ alright,” Conner countered, eyes narrowing as his voice slowly gained traction. “Your stress level has been at a near-constant ninety-three percent all week, well above average, and definitely above the safe range. You’re not sleeping; you’re actively _avoiding_ sleep, with highly increased intake of caffeine-"

“Connor,” you called out quietly, though he seemed to not have heard you as he continued his rant, voice escalating in volume and his L.E.D. spinning yellow.

“-have you even eaten anything substantial, recently? Have you done anything for yourself that didn’t revolve around this investigation? Your vitals are in a constant state of fluctuation that isn’t remotely healthy for a woman your age-"

“I get it, Connor, I do-"

“No, you don't!” he shouted suddenly, hands coming up to grasp at your upper arms. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his eyes were alight with panic as he crowded your space.

“You can’t possibly understand that what you're doing is _killing_ you, and I can't allow…I _can't_ ….”

Connor's voice wavered until he became quiet, blinking rapidly as he came back to himself. The panic was replaced by concern and guilt, his eyes roving over your trembling form before quickly letting go of you. He took two steps back, giving you space as he looked to his outstretched hands, the guilt becoming more prominent the longer he gazed at his palms.

“I'm sorry, I…I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he murmured, meeting your wide eyes as you continued to stare at him.

It was your turn to be shocked at Connor's outburst. Since knowing him, you had only ever seen him this worked up when trying to deny his deviancy. Since fully accepting the notion, he had eased into understanding his emotions with careful consideration, explored what he was feeling when appropriate and asking questions when able.

For the first time, Connor had lost control, and it was so unbelievably _human_ of him that it left you speechless.

The silence between you was deafening and heavy. You were both conflicted, unable to decide the next course of action.

_“H-hElP….”_

Your gaze shifted to the side, head turning at the quiet voice that sounded in your ear, almost too quiet to pick up on, and yet, you still heard it. Maybe…maybe Connor was right to lash out like he had. Maybe you were starting to hallucinate, hearing things in your sleep-deprived state, like weird, static-filled voices calling out for-

_“Help, someone…pl-pLeAsE….”_

You turned to look at Connor, who had also turned toward the voice. His gaze fell back on you, expression changing from surprised to serious within seconds.

“Did you-?”

“Get behind me,” he ordered, reaching for the gun he kept holstered and hidden along his torso and aiming it before him. All previous apprehension was forgotten as the situation changed drastically, mind easily slipping into work mode.

You followed behind Connor as he moved forward, reaching for your own gun you kept holstered at your belt…only to curse at realizing you had left the damn thing in the glove compartment of your car, like a novice. You were definitely suffering from your inability to slow down on the case if you were forgetting something as vital as your gun. At least Connor was always prepared.

He led the way into the room straight across from the stairs, the door having long been pulled from the hinges. From what you could initially see in the dark, the area looked absolutely wrecked, the floor above having somewhat collapsed to leave behind piles of debris across the floor. Connor slowly maneuvered through the mess of wood, concrete, and sheetrock without any hindrance from the surrounding darkness, gaze alert for any possible signs of movement as you trailed a bit behind, fumbling into your coat pocket for your cell phone.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” you called out, turning on the flashlight setting to better see in front of you. “We’re with Detroit Police. If you can hear me, please say something.”

There was a moment of tense quiet before a voice, warbling with static interference, spoke once more, sounding off from your right.

“Please…pLeAsE hElP us!”

Connor cursed as you darted toward the voices without hesitation, calling out to you as you ducked under some shifty looking debris that immediately crumbled after you pushed through it. You let out a surprised shout, coughing a bit at the rise of dust and almost blanching as your stomach turned in warning. There was no time for that, not when someone was in need of your help.

“Damnit! Are you alright?” Connor shouted, fear lacing his voice as he attempted to find another route into the room you had inadvertently found yourself in.

“I'm fine, I'm good,” you answered, hoping that it eased him somewhat.

You straightened and steadied your phone before you, sweeping the light shining from it slowly through the area with bated breath. It was as you passed a particularly large mess of material that you noticed the slightest movement. You paused, wiping at your eyes to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the mind, but the movement continued. It was a hand, waving slowly in the air before disappearing behind what looked like a large metal support beam.

“Connor, I found someone,” you shouted abruptly, rushing forward and falling to your knees as you came upon not one, but two people hiding amongst the destruction. There was a woman, unconscious with an unhealthy pallor, who was being held protectively close within the embrace of an android, if the blue blood coming from his nose was any indication. He looked startled, a little beat up, as one of his arms looked busted and limp at his side.

He…he was the same model as Josh. It made your heart lurch within your chest.

“Shit, I need paramedics in here!”

“Stella is alerting them, now. They’ll be in momentarily,” you heard Connor grunt out, the sound of shifting rubble indicating he was ensuring a clear path to your location.

With a steadying breath, you leaned in closer and began to assess the damages carefully, watching as a dark arm trembled around the woman, most likely in fear. You hoped you could at least calm him in some way, placing a soothing hand against his tense forearm while speaking clearly, calmly.

“My name is Detective (Y/n) (L/n); I'm with the Detroit Police Department. Can you tell me your name?”

“WiLl,” was warbled out in answer, his vocal module most likely having been damaged in some way. “Please, h-hElP her.”

“I’ve got paramedics coming in, they're right outside,” you comforted him, already hearing the rushed approach of footsteps as Connor directed them in through the initial entrance.

You reached forward to take hold of the woman's slack arm with careful movements, letting Will know your intent was to check her pulse. You were immediately aware of the heat coming off her skin as well as her strangely slowed heart rate, how she felt clammy to the touch despite the ice cold of winter. You turned her arm in your grasp, noting the dark, prominent map of her veins branching up from her wrist in a macabre display.

Just like the previous victims.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“He…he took us. KiDnApPeD us. Don’t…don’t know why. He poisoned hEr WiTh blue blood. She sUfFeReD. Had to…get her to sAfEtY. Please, she's dying!”

“Help is here, it's here,” you assured, turning as the illumination of flashlights appeared and came closer. You turned back to Will, finding him in utter relief as one of the paramedics came up beside you on the right, gloved hands reaching out toward the unconscious woman while simultaneously attempting to ease any worries the android may have had.

“Please check Detective (L/n) for any sustained injuries,” Connor spoke up suddenly from your left. You looked to him with confusion, halting one of the paramedics who had begun to look you over, as requested.

“Connor, I'm _fine,_ ” you emphasized, though the look he was giving you brought you back several minutes ago to the stairwell, how he had acted out without thought because he was scared-

“You…!”

Turning abruptly, your attention was taken by Will’s intense expression. His eyes were wide as he looked up directly at Connor, his arm squeezing tightly around the woman as a blinding rage took hold of him.

“You tried to kiLl HeR! You won't get to her, again! You won't ToUcH her!”

All at once, time seemed to slow right before your eyes as Will lifted the seemingly limp hand at his side, a gun firmly grasped within it.

Had you a moment to think, you would have surely gone about a different way of redirecting his shot. As it was, you were running on autopilot, hands coming up to grab his wrist as you forced yourself between the weapon and his intended target. There was a sharp click, several shouts of surprise, and for two heart-stopping seconds, you were sure you were dead.

“Detective!”

You looked down with impossibly wide eyes, finding Will's finger pulled tight against the trigger. The gun had gone off without a hitch, but there was no bullet to be shot. The clip was apparently completely empty. Will hadn’t anticipated an empty clip, nor had he anticipated you jumping in front of him. He had acted upon instinct, apparently seeing a threat and attempting to protect the woman in his arms.

“I..I didn't mean to-"

“I think I'll take this, now,” you rasped with an outward rush of air, gently pulling at the gun. Will’s grip released immediately as you took hold of the weapon with shaking hands, moving away as both the paramedics and Stella took over the scene.

Your eyes lingered on the gun in your hands, body letting go of a breath you hadn’t realized you'd been holding. You looked up to your left, finding absolutely terrified brown eyes gazing back at you. Realization hit you like a bag of bricks, so sudden and alarming that you nearly felt your heart stutter in your chest.

The investigation had suddenly taken its biggest turn, yet.

“Connor,” you said slowly, voice low and stuttering slightly. “I think…I think we might know who we're looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful feedback! I'm more and more excited to write each new chapter, just to see what you guys think!
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


	4. Deface The Life Inside Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we finally address what you've all been waiting for. But at what cost to the investigation, I wonder?
> 
> This chapter was a bitch and a half to write out. Literally had to scrap most of the first half after days of no progress, but I finally got it put together, thank goodness.
> 
> Enjoy, you guys! Things are gonna get dicey real soon....

A little over a year ago, if anyone had asked Hank how he viewed his current position in life in that moment, he would have scoffed and said he was fine with what he had going for him. Well, alright, that was a blatant lie, and even he had the decency to call himself out on it. 

He had been in a dark place, then, had cultivated his own waking hell through excessive liquor, recklessness, and, at his lowest, nights of drunken loathing and grief with a revolver held to his head, one bullet in the cylinder and nothing left to lose while playing a deadly game with lady luck. 

For years, he had suffered at the hands of his own mental state, refusing those who had offered help out of spite for their sympathy. What had they known, anyways? He was coping, perhaps not the way some fancy shithead with a psychology degree wanted him to, but it was still coping. In all honesty, though, his way of coping was only barely keeping him afloat, and even then, he was still going under, still drowning without really getting anywhere close to the surface. 

Who would have known that a prototype detective android sent by Cyberlife would, over the course of the Deviancy Investigation, become deviant, himself, aide in a revolution that changed the course of history for both humans and androids, and completely change Hank's way of thinking? Certainly not him. 

Hank realized then that he may have been alive, but he wasn’t truly _living_ anymore. It had been enough, or so he thought, but after Connor weaseled his way into the Lieutenant's life, he knew that there was _more_ than the grief and anger that had consumed him all these years. He may have been drowning, but it wasn’t too late to learn how to swim. 

And just like that, things changed for the better. He started drinking less and appreciating the little things he never paid much attention to. He laughed more, smiled more, and though he still enjoyed a greasy burger from time to time, he'd attempted to eat just a bit healthier, albeit with a scowl most times that wasn’t at all genuine. His friendship with (Y/n) had flourished, something he had truly missed without knowing he had lost it, and he had gained another close friendship with the very android who had literally saved his life, in more ways than one. 

Given all that he had been through within the past year or so, however, Hank liked to believe he was much too old for the shitstorm he was suddenly a part of, thank you very much. 

He grumbled to himself while he waited at his assigned desk at the DPD, having already downloaded some necessary files to his data pad from his terminal. He was waiting for Anthony, the android from his previous case, to show up, as he had agreed on coming in to possibly identify the android who had kidnapped him and killed his friend. 

Considering the current time, as well as the fiasco that just happened at their most recent crime scene, Hank wasn’t particularly keen on doing the follow-up. You had asked him to do it, however, and he'd be damned if the look in your exhausted eyes didn’t pull at him in some way. 

Ah, and the fact that you were headed to the emergency room for your hand also played a big factor. 

Connor had been clearly upset when Hank had arrived on-scene earlier that night. He recalled the android pacing beside an ambulance as another began to speed off toward the nearest hospital. His L.E.D. was blinking yellow wildly each time it was turned in his direction, and for a moment, Hank remembered the pang in his heart at thinking something bad must have happened. It was as he approached that he saw you sitting in the back, a paramedic looking you over, and though it was still a bad situation, it wasn’t nearly as awful as his mind had jumped to. 

When he asked Connor what happened, he explained the whole ordeal as succinctly as possibly, eyes constantly cutting over to you as if ensuring nothing had changed. It had ruffled up his partner something fierce, and Hank couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t something to be expected, to have someone take a bullet for you, especially if that someone was your significant other. 

You were cleared and urged to seek a full evaluation at the nearest hospital, just to be sure all was in working order. Connor was adamant on going with you, determined to shut down any dissuasion. You had been quick to assure him with a weary smile that he was coming along. After all, you needed him to drive for you, and Hank still needed to evaluate the crime scene. 

The only good thing he’d gotten out of the night was seeing Gavin's busted up face. You apparently had a doozy of a right hook, if the smear of blood from split skin and the bruising forming along the bottom of Gavin's eye were anything to go by. Hank had wished he'd seen it in person. Reed must have said something absolutely stupid, if you had lost control like that. 

“Lieutenant Anderson?” 

Hank looked up to find the WB200 android, Anthony, staring down at him. He was quick to stand and reach out his hand in greeting, of which Anthony shook easily enough. It seemed any hesitation from their previous encounter had been put aside, a good sign that things might go well for the Lieutenant. 

“Thanks for coming by at such a late- er, early hour,” he said, glancing at the time in the corner of his terminal. Was it really almost four in the morning? 

“Yeah, it was no trouble. Not like I’ve got much going right now.” 

Hank motioned to the chair he'd previously pulled around to the side of his desk for Anthony to sit, once more taking his seat with a short sigh. 

“We usually like to schedule these things ahead of time, but I was told this was something that couldn’t wait.” 

Hank reached for his data pad, pulling up the files he had downloaded half an hour ago, tapping at a few settings to set up the display as he wanted. Meanwhile, Anthony looked around him, dark eyes taking in the desks that lined the room and focusing on a nameplate from the desk behind the Lieutenant. He frowned, then turned his attention back on Hank. 

“I hope I'm not being intrusive, but how is Detective (L/n)? Is she alright?” 

Hank looked up at Anthony, eyes narrowing a fraction. Had he heard about what happened through the grapevine? He knew news traveled fast, even quicker between androids, but he hadn’t thought word would have gotten out, at least not yet. 

“She’s had a long night,” Hank answered gruffly, though his words were gentle, if a bit hesitant. “Overall, I'd say she's doing well enough, as can be expected.” 

“But she's… _okay_ , right?” 

Hank became suspicious in a heartbeat, not particularly fond of where the conversation was headed. If he didn’t know any better, Hank would say the android knew something that he didn't. Considering the night his partners had experienced, he wasn’t too keen on that thought. 

“You seem awfully worried about the well-being of my partner.” 

“When she interrogated me, she was very kind, but something felt off,” Anthony spoke easily, still showing concern. “I wasn’t sure if she was normally like that. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

Hank would have believed the simple answer, knowing first-hand how you were fairing under copious amounts of stress and sleepless nights, not to mention the whole ordeal you had just gone through. The curious nature of Anthony's concern, however, felt too coincidental to be a mere formality of checking in 

“Like I said,” Hank started, feigning indifference as he momentarily fiddled with the settings of his data pad to seem busy, “(Y/n)’s had a long night. She's constantly tired, but it comes with the job.” 

Anthony nodded, though didn't look fully convinced. Hank wasn’t fully convinced he was telling the truth, either, but he didn’t have much to go on. He vaguely recalled how Anthony's interrogation progressed, remembering the way the WB200 android before him had grabbed you when he was leaving to relay something only you could hear. He recalled how easily Anthony cooperated with you after Hank’s failed attempts at getting a peep out of him, how all you had done was give your name before- 

Well, shit. That suddenly made sense. Fuck, if he wasn’t dumb as a box of rocks, sometimes. He had to ask, though, had to be sure he wasn’t just imagining things, but he could do that shortly. 

There were more pressing matters, at the moment. 

“I've got a small list of android models we compiled based off some of the information you gave us about your attacker. Look through these photos, and tell me if any of them look similar to the guy you saw.” 

Anthony nodded and reached for the data pad as Hank passed it over, bright blue eyes watching the other closely for any reactions. There were at least fifty different models that had similar traits to what he had described, and though Hank was hoping the android before him would be able to pick out their suspect among the given pictures, he was also hoping Anthony didn’t pick out the one photo he had added last-minute, as per your request. 

The first few pictures were swiped past quickly, Anthony's eyes taking in information quicker than Hank ever could. There didn’t seem to be any luck on the next set of pictures, though he did seem to slow on two in particular, hesitating only a moment before swiping away. 

Hank was a little anxious, if he were being honest with himself. Anthony had nearly gone through the whole collection of photos, and besides those two instances, it didn’t seem like their perpetrator would be any of the likenesses shown. It was then that Anthony gave pause, eyes going wide as he looked up at Hank and back down at the data pad. 

“Him…it's him! This is who attacked us,” Anthony said in a rush, shoving the data pad back into Hank's hands. The Lieutenant braced himself as he looked down at the screen, gritting his teeth and cursing inwardly at the android pictured. 

An RK800 model. 

“Congratulations, kid,” Hank groused with an exasperated sigh, “you just made this investigation a whole lot easier, and a hell of a lot harder to deal with.” 

Anthony looked confused at Hank's statement, but the Lieutenant was quick to flip his hand out in dismissal of what he had just said. He leaned a bit more heavily into his chair, eyes straying to the image of an RK800 - _Connor_ , Jesus Christ, it was _Connor_ \- looking back at him. Anthony seemed vaguely uncomfortable as the silence carried for several long seconds. 

“Was there…anything else you needed from me, Lieutenant?” 

“Actually, yeah, I’ve got something I want to ask about before you head out. It's something that’s been bothering me since your interrogation. Figured you could clear it up for me.” 

Anthony seemed confused, though Hank had noticed the way his hands had clenched up in his lap, a subtle sign of unease. Hank leaned forward a bit, making sure his intense stare was locked with Anthony's gaze. 

“How well do you know Detective (L/n), Anthony?” 

“I don't,” he answered, brow furrowing and shoulders tensing, “My interrogation was the first day we met. I don’t know a thing about her.” 

Hank felt the corner of his mouth lift in a barely-there smirk. 

“And yet, you knew her name. That's why you looked up, isn’t it? Her name was a trigger, and you responded as soon as you heard it.” 

“I-I don’t know what-" 

“Son,” Hank stated forcefully, a hint of a growl in that one word that had Anthony shutting up real quick, “you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about. If you truly care about her safety, then I suggest you start talking. I won't ask again.” 

Anthony grew silent, deathly still in his seat. His hands were still tightly clasped in his lap; had he been human, his knuckles would surely have been white. 

“I-I'm not supposed to say,” he stuttered, voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid the very walls around them would hear his treachery. 

“Look, if you need protection, we can provide that for you, but if something happens to (Y/n), and you had a way to change that, you'll feel like shit, kid, trust me. That kind of guilt never goes away.” 

Anthony shifted in his seat, eyes now downcast and lips pressed firmly together. He was afraid, and Hank understood why, but he needed to push a little further to get him to talk. 

“If that friend of yours…Lauren, right? If she had been put in this situation, what do you think she would have done?” 

That produced some sort of result. Anthony looked up abruptly with nearly teary eyes and a grimace. His jaw was clenched tight, and his shoulders trembled with the effort of holding back, from speaking of from crying, it was hard to say. Hank thought he had lost him. 

“He s-said her name,” Anthony murmured, voice cracking. “He told me to remember h-her name, that she was a detective with the DPD. He was…confident that I would meet her, told me not to say a word to anyone else until she spoke with me.” 

“Why?” 

“He had a message he wanted me to give her, discreetly. No one is - _was_ \- supposed to know.” 

Hank's mind immediately went to the final confrontation between you and Anthony before he was escorted out, quiet words only meant for your ears. You had told him Anthony had only asked for you to find Lauren's killer and bring him to justice, but Hank had been doubtful, even after your placating answer. He hated that he had been right to feel that way. 

Hank braced himself for whatever answer his next question would garner, knowing damn well it wasn’t going to be good. 

“What did you say to Detective (L/n) before you left the interrogation room?” 

\------ 

Connor had been unbelievably quiet towards you since leaving the crime scene. Granted, you had fallen asleep in the car yet again, so it had been expected that no conversation would take place during that time. When you woke up next, it was as Connor was walking through the emergency room entrance with you cradled in his arms, quiet as a mouse. How he had gotten you out of the car without you knowing was beyond you, and what had woken you up at that moment, you couldn’t say. 

He had left you in one of the waiting room chairs and checked you in himself, even as you fussed about being able to walk the rest of the way. Luckily, the emergency clinic hadn’t been particularly busy, and in less than half an hour, you were called back. The rest of your time was spent with several nurses and two doctors, all of which had a part in taking your vitals, a blood sample, checking your reflexes, and taking an x-ray of your hand. 

As if lady luck was continuing to bless you, there was nothing broken or fractured, and the split skin on two of your knuckles was superficial, at worst, and would heal just fine on its own. There would be some swelling for a couple more days, and definitely some bruising and stiffness, but other than that, you would be just fine. A week of pain, another week before regaining complete function without stiff joints, but fine, all the same. 

During the entire check-up, Connor hadn’t said a word. He had been like a shadow, standing just behind you as you were looked over, prodded, and evaluated by medical professionals. You'd tried conversing with him during the downtime between procedures, but he had only given you a withering look that had ultimately shut you up. 

He was upset with you. 

You sighed as he led the way back to your car, eyes scanning over the little square piece of paper with a prescription scribbled across it for some sort of sleeping pill, of all things. Connor must have said something to one of the nurses in passing, either that, or you looked like complete and utter shit from lack of sleep, and the doctor had decided to take pity on you. Either option would have been viable and believable. 

“Maybe I'll actually get some sleep, with these bad boys,” you mumbled aloud, smiling somewhat in a joking manner as you stuffed the prescription into your coat pocket. Connor didn’t even turn around to acknowledge your words. You frowned. 

“I guess it's a good thing I didn’t break my hand,” you continued, a little louder with your approach. “I would have hated being stuck on desk duty for well over a month.” 

Connor approached the driver’s side of the car and unlocked the door as you stood directly behind him. Again, he ignored you. Your brows furrowed in aggravation. 

“Guess it's also a good thing I didn’t get _shot_ ,” you emphasized with a bite to your words, “otherwise, I would’ve probably bled out-" 

That had gotten an immediate reaction from Connor, who turned abruptly with fire in his eyes. Before you could register what was happening, he had switched your positions, hands clutching your upper arms tightly as he pushed you up against the car and crowded your space. Your hands fisted into the front of his coat, the knuckles of your injured hand protesting the vice grip. Your jaw clenched, and your gaze peered back into Connor's own, refusing to back down. 

“I was designed to anticipate and adapt to human unpredictability. You, however, are testing my capabilities, as well as my patience.” 

“Are you…are you seriously talking to me like that?” you said, voice raised as you glared at your boyfriend in disbelief. 

“I'm unsure I understand what you mean, _Detective_ ,” Connor said, tone lilting and holding an edge to it. “Perhaps you could elaborate?” 

You were on the verge of shouting as you answered, “Like a machine, Connor! You’re talking to me like a fucking _machine_!” 

“In case you hadn’t realized,” he began, “I _am_ a machine, created in the likeness of humans, only deemed replaceable, expendable. As such, any damage sustained to my person can be much more easily repaired than any damage to you.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, beginning to understand exactly what this was all about. 

“Don’t even go there, Connor. If you’re pissed at me because of what happened downtown, then you can suck it up, because I don’t regret it.” 

“You were reckless,” Connor ground out harshly with a narrowed gaze. “Your stress and lack of rest has clouded your judgement in dangerous situations, rendering you unable to make concise decisions-" 

“I was trying to save you, Connor,” you argued, more in disbelief than actual anger. “Like it or not, that was my decision.” 

“He could have killed you-” 

“He didn't-" 

“You could have died!” 

You startled at Connor's shout, his voice ringing in your ears as he huffed out hot breaths that steamed the winter air and warmed your cold cheeks with how close he was. He had worked himself up to the extent of needing to cool his inner systems through breathing, something you had only seen happen twice before. The L.E.D. at his temple had flickered dangerously to red before petering off into a hesitant yellow. You hadn’t realized he was still so wound up, all because he had worried over you. This was all because of _you_. 

“Connor, I…” 

“You could have died, right there, right in front of me,” he said, voice shaking as he leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “The gun was meant to be aimed at my head, but the trajectory would have been off. I would have lived. When you jumped in front of it, when you grabbed his hand, the trajectory changed. He would have shot through your heart.” 

His grip on your arms weakened considerably until his hands were moving up, cold palms pressing against equally cold cheeks. He looked absolutely devastated, with his bottom lip trembling and tears beading the corners of his eyes before falling smoothly down his face. He was still breathing deeply, though it was more a means to keep himself grounded than to cool his already regulating systems. 

You had made him this way. You had caused Connor so much concern over your well-being, had scared him to death in the line of duty, and he was suffering because of it. 

It broke your heart to see him like that. 

“I can’t lose you, (Y/n). I can't…I won't, I-” 

Silencing him was easy; he followed the slight tug against his coat, leaning in as you pressed your lips firmly to his. The kiss was none too gentle, lips meeting in a desperate, urgent slide, a need to tell each other everything through action, all the fear and anger laid bare through the harsh press. 

When Connor pulled back to give you room to breathe, you let out a sob, wet trails leaving icy burns against your cheeks as you tried pulling him back to you with whispered apologies for worrying him falling off your tongue. You hadn’t realized that you had started crying, moved by his own tears and shamed at having caused them. You had meant what you said; you didn’t regret your choice to protect him, but you sure as hell didn’t mean to hurt him in the process. 

Connor was quick to shush you gently, kissing at your cheeks and nose, your temples, even as you tried to pull him back to your lips. He relented a moment later, pressing back against your mouth with a soft sigh. The second kiss stayed far more gentle than the first, Connor controlling the careful pace as he wiped away your tears with soft strokes of his thumbs against your skin. 

You had been forgiven. 

He pulled back yet again, dark eyes holding so much emotion as he looked you over, his L.E.D. once again cycling a cool blue color. You gave a shaky smile, reaching up to clear his cheeks of his own tears with gentle swipes of your trembling fingers. He reached up to press your hand more firmly to his face, his suddenly bright smile catching you off-guard. 

“I love you, (Y/n).” 

Your heart very nearly stopped beating at the murmured declaration, air rushing past your teeth sharply. It was the first time he had said those words, the first time either one of you had dared to utter them, and you were caught in the sudden whirlwind of being suddenly overwhelmed and unexplainably frightened. 

Did you need to say it back? 

_Could_ you even make yourself say it? 

“I…Connor, I-" 

You were interrupted by the sudden flickering of yellow at Connor’s temple, his eyes fluttering for barely a second before he shot up and away from you by a couple feet. You jumped at the severity of his own surprise, watching his gaze shift about him before settling on you. His L.E.D. remained a cautious yellow. 

“What's wrong?” you asked, watching as he blinked once, twice, eyes shifting about him one last time as if looking for something. 

“Hank sent a message,” he answered, ushering you to the other side of the car. You had no choice but to follow. 

“What did he say?” you asked, looking up expectantly at Connor after sliding into the passenger seat. 

“The WB200 model, Anthony, was able to identify his attacker." 

“And?” 

Connor hesitated, the action making your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

“It’s an RK800 model.” 

The news slowly sank in as Connor shut your door and made his way to the driver's side. He was quick to start up the car and pull out of the emergency clinic parking lot, destination set in the A.I. cruise control for the DPD, where Hank would be waiting for the both of you. 

You could feel your nerves practically vibrate, you were so unsettled. 

Out of the frying pan, and straight into a burning inferno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all your support and love for this fic! It means so much to me, and your reactions so far have been absolutely wonderful.
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


	5. Is This The Way It's Gotta Be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, my dears, but the next one will be longer, I promise!

The DPD, unsurprisingly, was rather quiet, save for the few night officers who came and went from time to time, rotating like clockwork. Unsurprisingly, you saw Stella rotating in, having already returned from the crime scene and taking up her designated desk to file a report. You would have greeted her, but you felt completely worn out from everything the night had thrown at you. 

As it was, you were on the fast track to passing out in Connor's desk chair while waiting for him to return from wherever it was he had disappeared to, head leaning against a propped up arm and eyes fighting to stay open. Hank was pacing anxiously as he stewed in his own thoughts, and watching him move back and forth like that was making you feel dizzy, even more nauseous then what you had been for most of the night. Your stomach grumbled in agreement to your thoughts, though it was a wonder you had anything left in your system, considering what had happened earlier. 

Suddenly, you were struck with an odd thought. When was the last time you had eaten, exactly? 

“Your last proper meal was three days ago, unless you consider the single piece of toast you ate yesterday morning an adequate one,” Connor answered as he approached, hands holding items that could only have come from the break room. Your cheeks flushed slightly, realizing you had asked your question aloud, and you grimaced in slight embarrassment. 

Connor seemed unfazed, however, and proceeded to give you what he was carrying, a pack of peanut butter cracker sandwiches and a cold bottle of water from the vending machines. He smiled as you took them and gently caressed your cheek with a stroke of his thumb. 

“It's not much, but it'll help settle your stomach until we can get you something more substantial to eat.” 

“Thanks,” you murmured without hesitation, tearing open the crackers with weak, aching fingers and eating four from the pack of six. Connor watched you for a moment, seemingly placated that something was finally getting into your system. He waited until you needed the water, reaching out to open the tightly sealed cap for you, before moving to stand right behind you. 

Connor had been acting strange since returning to the station. It was sort of subtle, but the difference was still there. He was hovering, in a way, staying rather close to you and absentmindedly touching you wherever he could. It was welcomed, of course, and much better than the cold shoulder he was giving you beforehand, but it was also a bit startling, especially when he was one to give you space when you were both at work. 

You had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with what he had said to you in the parking lot of the E.R. over half an hour ago. 

_“I love you, (Y/n)."_

Just thinking about it, how Connor had spoken those three little words with such conviction, how he had gazed at you with absolute adoration and relief, even after you had just got done fighting- 

It scared you, and you didn’t know why. 

“Are you alright?” Connor asked, one of his hands reaching out to rub along the back of your neck, fingers lightly digging into the tense muscles there. A groan nearly escaped your lips, but you were able to hold it back, both grateful for the touch and slightly embarrassed at your reaction. He continued the light massage for only a moment longer before his hand was moving down and across your shoulders, touch light as he rubbed across the upper portion of your back. 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, clearing your throat before continuing, “I'm good. Just trying to piece things together in my head. Where…where did we leave off?” 

“Cyberlife's involvement,” Hank spoke up suddenly, pausing in his stride to cross both arms over his chest as he looked to you and Connor, “are we ruling them out, or what?” 

Hank had eyeballed Connor's closeness as well as the soothing touch he was still applying against your back; you could see the Lieutenant’s eyes flicker to the movement before looking between the both of you, almost as if he wanted to say something. Strangely enough, he didn’t say anything, no teasing remarks or snippy, playful comments about no PDA in the work space. Hank's favorite passive response usually involved reminding you just what Connor licked up at a crime scene whenever the android made to kiss your cheek, and yet, even with an ample opportunity, he hadn’t so much as hinted at the affectionate closeness. 

He seemed much more worried about the new details involving the investigation, at the moment. You understood. The whole thing had suddenly been thrust into a whole other ball park, and the curve balls just kept coming. 

“Not completely,” Connor answered as his hand made its way into your hair, the sensation of fingers lightly grazing your scalp causing your eyes to flutter closed. “With the new android laws being set into finality later this week, it’s a possibility Cyberlife could be trying to sabotage the proceedings in some way.” 

“Delaying the inevitable,” Hank scoffed with a shake of his head. “They just don’t know when to give up, do they?” 

“While it _is_ a possibility, Lieutenant, the likelihood of their involvement is rather low." 

“How can we explain the prime suspect being your model type, then? You think they created another one of you without all the free-will?” 

“No, I don’t believe so,” Connor began slowly, brows furrowing in contemplation even as he continued to carefully run fingers through your hair. You were relaxed and pliant under his touch, so much so that you were barely keeping up with the conversation, having to really focus on your partners' words. 

“They’re restricted in what they can create, at the moment,” Connor continued. “Assembling another android is out of the question, but it’s possible there are still inactive androids we haven’t yet freed.” 

“More androids, huh? Speaking of, just how many of _you_ were running around, anyway?” Hank asked curiously. His gaze flickered to you briefly, eyes softening at your relaxed features. 

“Considering I was their latest prototype, Cyberlife kept me strictly within the Detroit area to test my capabilities. It wouldn’t be wise to have multiple RK800 models running amok, should there have been complications with any of my programming.” 

“Mm, wait...wait, didn’t they keep several RK800 androids on-sight and inactive?” you asked, words mumbled as you fought to open your eyes and sit up a bit straighter in the chair. “Like you said, it wouldn’t do to have an army of Connors running around, but they surely had replacements, if you happened to be injured beyond repair.” 

“This is true,” Connor answered as he looked down at you, “though there was only ever one available replacement at a time. Again, because I was a prototype, they couldn’t risk creating too many models at once.” 

“So there were only ever two functioning RK800 models in the world, at once,” you continued to mumble. “You think they still had one over at Cyberlife HQ?” 

“I don’t think so,” Hank interjected. “That night the androids won their freedom, I had a fake Connor use me as leverage against our Connor. Probably Cyberlife's last-ditch effort to stop the revolution. Long story short, he didn’t make it out of that tower.” 

“He would have also been the last of my model,” Connor started up again, “as Cyberlife wouldn’t have had time to compose another, not with the outcome of the revolution in favor of androids. And with their every move being watched, compromising any remaining integrity would be out of the question.” 

So far, everything was making perfect sense. Cyberlife had the means to pull off something like this, but it would risk any further relationship with the public as well as possible development for future projects, whatever they may be. With society mostly in favor of androids as people, too, doing anything to negate the peace would end badly, on their side. 

The issue, then, didn’t lie with _who_ was behind the killings, but more on _how_. How had the RK800 model been activated? How was it possible when all evidence was pointing to Connor being the last of his unit? Connor as a suspect would seem like a logical assumption, one that would usually warrant a further look into, but you and Hank already knew it wasn’t possible, not even a probability. Connor was always with either one of you, and timestamps and sound alibis could prove his innocence completely. 

Another thought struck you, one that had you sitting up a bit straighter as you mulled over the likelihood of it. 

“Is it possible one of the damaged models somehow came back to life?” 

Connor looked at you in mild surprise, the motion of his hand in your hair pausing as he thought it over. “Extremely unlikely, but, statistically speaking, it’s a possibility. Markus is a prime example of defying the odds, in such a way. We…may have to look into it.” 

“Great,” Hank bemoaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “that's fan-fucking-tastic, just what we needed! A rogue Connor on the streets, back from the dead and, apparently, pissed off about it.” 

And that was quite the horrifying thought to dwell on. Connor was an advanced prototype; he was fast, strong, more advanced than the androids meant for police work, and equipped to take on the challenges of a detective with relative ease and adaptability. He was a force to be reckoned with, and to have such a force on the side of criminal intent only made things much more dangerous, even more difficult. 

Still, there was a question that hadn’t been answered yet, one that would most likely be the driving force into finding out how to catch the rogue android. Why was this RK800 model kidnapping, killing, and forcing others to kill? What motivated him into doing all these things? Why humans _and_ androids, and not one or the other? 

There was also the matter of whether or not the RK800 model was deviant or not. From the evidence so far, it would seem that he was, in fact, attacking of his own free will. While everything seemed meticulously thought out for each case, it was clear to see that there was a variable change in the RK800 model's tactics. His intent had stayed the same, as he seemed to want to prove a point. What changed was the power of choice, giving a single victim a chance to choose one life over another. 

But, why? 

The first two cases were cut and dry. One android, tied to a chair with a gunshot to the head, and one human, dead by the same means and sprawled out on the floor. It would’ve almost looked like a murder-suicide, as only the human's fingerprints were pulled from the empty gun, yet the evidence concluded that the human victim had been shot through the back of the head at an angle that suggested a third person had to have pulled the trigger. It was all the evidence needed to hint toward a double homicide, instead. On top of that, it was concluded that the human victim was forced into shooting the android victim by means of torture. The right arm was a vast web of dark blue veins, almost like ink, trailing up the limb as if to show the trail the poison took. 

Case number three showed the first use of the power of choice, as well as the same method of torture by means of blue blood injection, most likely to push them into making a decision between the two other victims. Anthony had survived, merely because the power of choice had shifted, and a false sense of control had been given to Winny, who had become a nuisance in the eyes of the suspected android. Lauren would have survived, most likely, had she not tried to attack the RK800 model behind her kidnapping. 

The most recent case yet again gave the tortured victim the power of choice. While you didn’t have all that much information, seeing as how things had escalated between you and Gavin on the scene and you were forced away, it wasn’t too hard to guess what had happened, going by the other cases. The woman had made the choice to shoot one of the other victims, somehow managed to do so in her heavily poisoned state, and both she and the android had been freed and spared. 

Choice had become an important factor, but as to why, it was still unclear. Maybe it was the RK800 model lamenting his choices and making others enact them. Perhaps it was simply as easy as saying he found some twisted joy in it after finding his first two tests fruitless in entertainment. 

Whatever the reason, it was clear that he was now targeting groups of three persons that knew each other in some way, one of which was an android. He had to know their routines in order to kidnap his victims without complication, meaning he must have been watching them for- 

_“Detective, please, be careful. He's…he's watching._

You nearly fell out of your chair from sitting up so quickly, eyes wide as the words Anthony had uttered to you played in your head on a loop. 

He's watching. 

He's _watching._

Anthony had given you the warning, and you hadn’t even realized he had been talking _directly_ to you. 

“(Y/n)?” 

“Hey, kid, take it easy!” 

You looked up at Hank, who had moved just a bit closer, his expression one of worried confusion at your sudden movement. Connor was fairing no better, having shifted to put you in his direct line of sight, panicked brown eyes zipping over your body. He was no doubt analyzing you at that very moment, becoming aware that your heart had picked up speed and that you were showing extreme signs of stress. 

God, how could you have been so _stupid_?! 

“I can’t work this case,” you whispered, words barely leaving your lips as the clarifying thought reached you. 

“(Y/n), what's wrong?” Connor urged again, reaching out to touch your arm. You looked at him, eyes wide with uncertain fear. 

“I…I need to talk to Fowler,” you stuttered, swallowing thickly. “I can’t work this case, anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the support and kind words!
> 
> As always, I'll see ya in the next chapter!


	6. I Am Faded Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! To make up for itn have this long chapter with over 6k words!
> 
> Things are about to get dicey, my lovelies! Hold on to your pants!

As luck would have it, Captain Jeffery Fowler was in a _fantastic_ mood once he entered the DPD bullpen around seven that morning. 

“(L/n), my office! Now!” 

A fantastic, shitty mood, that is. 

His booming, frustration-laced voice demanded attention from anyone near enough to hear him, and he got it quickly. It was startling, even moreso with as tired as you were, and the suddenness of the call of your last name had you nearly falling out of your chair for the second time that morning. Thankfully, Connor had eased you quickly with a gentle grip to your forearm, ensuring you had scooted back into a more appropriate sitting position before you ended up on the floor. 

You turned to look at your grumbling boss as he passed by your group of three, noticing the unamused scowl on his face. It was far too early in the morning for Fowler to already be in such a state. The fact that you were the first person he wanted to talk to while so worked up did not bode well in your favor. 

The reason why he was like this was simple, as it was following behind the Captain with a smug smirk plastered on his busted-up face, looking every bit like the cat that got the canary _and_ the cream. 

“Might not wanna keep the Captain waiting,” Gavin mused as he walked by slowly, ensuring he caught your eye. “He's, ah, not in the best of moods. Don't wanna piss him off even more.” 

“You know, Reed,” Hank butted in quickly, lips quirking up in amusement, “you sure are smug for a guy who got his ass handed to him with one punch.” 

Gavin's smirk lessened into more of a sneer as he threw up his hand and flipped Hank the bird, quickening his stride toward Fowler's office. 

“Can it, old fucker.” 

Hank only laughed as he turned away from Gavin, his eyes settling on you. He still looked amused, even knowing you were potentially on the Captain's bad side, all because Gavin was most likely playing up his injury and the events that led up to it. Had you the energy, you would surely be complaining at the unjustness of it all. 

“You'll be fine,” Hank reassured, “Fowler's just mad because it's too damn early to be dealing with Reed's petty bullshit. Besides, this is, what, your first major offense? You’re one of his best; at worst, you'll probably get a slap on the wrist.” 

“Doesn’t mean I’m ready for the yelling,” you mumbled as you stood much too quickly for your tired body to keep up with. Your knees nearly buckled beneath your weight the instant you moved forward, but Hank was quick enough to steady you by the shoulders while you reached out to catch yourself against the desk. 

“Easy, easy,” Hank warned gently, his eyes cutting over to Connor, who had hastily moved to hover behind you as soon as you showed signs of falling. “Maybe you should let Connor help you to Jeffery's office.” 

“No, no, I've got it,” you insisted, straightening up and shaking your head a bit. “Just tired. I’ve got it, don’t worry.” 

It was a wonder you were still going, at that point, and you were well aware. You had been running on adrenaline, alone, for most of the night and into the early morning. The short fight with Gavin, nearly being shot by a distressed android trying to shoot your boyfriend, and then two different shouting matches with said boyfriend had been enough to keep your body mobile, enough to keep your mind moving through your stressful endeavors. Now, though, any hint of adrenaline had long diminished, and full exhaustion had settled over you like a heavy blanket. 

“Maybe it would be best for you to sleep, first,” Connor suggested for the third time since your insistence on staying until your boss came into work. “I could talk to Captain Fowler and persuade him to hold off any punishment until-" 

“I’ll be fine, Connor,” you assured, voice soft and laced with fatigue, “I need to talk to him, anyway. It'll be best to get this over with, and then you can take me home, alright?” 

Connor visibly hesitated as you looked to him with imploring eyes, his own gaze softening at the weary look your features held. 

“If it means I can take you home and get you to finally rest,” he said, and it was all the go-ahead you needed to get moving again. 

You walked slowly at first, ensuring your footing was steady, before picking up a moderate pace toward the captain's office. Gavin was already inside, standing several feet away from Fowler's desk as your boss booted up his terminal with practiced ease, actively ignoring your coworker. You entered the room and made to stand beside Gavin, eyes blinking slowly as you looked over at the other detective and studied his injury a bit closer. 

Underneath his left eye was the evidence of your attack on him, a blooming bruise stretching across his upper cheek that was already dark and threatening to become even blacker as the day progressed. It looked swollen, as his eye was squinted a bit, and you could see somewhere in the middle of it that your punch had been strong enough to split his skin slightly, most likely from your knuckles digging into the protruding bone there. It was a wonder you hadn’t broken anything in his face, given how nasty the injury looked already. 

You actually felt sort of bad. Did he deserve it? Oh, hell yes. But even you had sympathy for people like Gavin Reed, and seeing him hurt pulled at your heartstrings, regardless of what you thought of the man. 

Looking forward once more, your gaze focused on Fowler's hands as he checked over some things on his terminal. Your focus was so acutely fixed that you could feel your eyes attempting to slip closed, but you persevered and shifted to glance at various objects along the desk, instead, if only to keep yourself alert. All the while, the room remained quiet for a stretched few minutes, the lingering silence meant to create tension you were too tired to process clearly. 

Finally, Fowler looked up, gave a quick, unhappy sigh, and began to speak, his cadence carrying notes of annoyance and disappointment. 

“Would you like to explain to me how Detective Reed got his injury, Detective (L/n)? Or do I need to assume based on the blatant evidence before me, as well as several eye-witness accounts, what happened?” 

He shot an accusatory eye between the obvious injury on Gavin's face and the slight bruising along your visible knuckles, your hand flexing stiffly at his stare. You closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly before speaking. 

“Detective Reed made some uncouth accusations about the integrity of my involvement with the android revolution, as well as my availability and interest for my current investigation, and while many would believe it’s easy to ignore his intentionally hurtful statements, which happen often, my fist surely didn’t think so, at the time.” 

The raised brow and deepening frown from Fowler were not good signs that carried in your favor. Hank would have, at the very least, cracked a smile, and the thought alone had your lips twitching up ever so slightly. 

“Do you find this funny, detective?” 

“No, sir-” 

“Need I remind you how serious this incident is? You attacked a colleague, at a crime scene, for God's sake! Had things escalated, you could have rendered any viable evidence inconsequential. You could have jeopardized the entire case _and_ the ongoing investigation!” 

“I’m fully aware that my actions were absolutely uncalled for, and that I posed a risk to the case and the investigation as a whole,” you spoke up, voice wavering only slightly as you exerted what little energy you had to make yourself heard through Fowler's shouting. “I'm also aware that the damage done could hold major consequences regarding my record as well as my line of work, should Detective Reed choose to press charges.” 

You turned to face Gavin, who caught your movement and turned his head to glare at you with narrowed eyes. You smiled gently, and his expression turned to that of heated confusion. 

“While it’s not much, I really am sorry, Gavin. I let my anger get the best of me. I’ve been so tired, and sick, but that's no excuse for attacking you like I did. I lost control. I wouldn’t blame you for pressing charges, and I'll cooperate in any way you need me to.” 

The sincerity of your words must have caught Gavin off-guard, as he looked rather surprised by your apology. He took a long moment to look you over, no doubt noticing the large bags under your eyes and the way you slightly trembled where you stood. His expression quickly changed to that of mild annoyance, however, a half-hearted scoff leaving him as he turned away from you. Whatever he saw, it must have had some sort of an affect on him. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, “I'm not completely heartless. Fuckin' don’t think this means I’m over this shit, though.” 

“Of course,” you murmured back, letting out a short sigh as you mentally shouted in victory. Gavin was right; he wasn’t completely heartless, but he was definitely easier to coerce when in front of a higher-ranking force. Had you not looked a complete mess already, you were sure your tactic wouldn’t have worked quite as well, but you would take whatever small miracles were thrown your way. 

“Well, that was easier than I expected,” Fowler said, seemingly just as surprised as Gavin was. He played it off much more smoothly, sitting up straighter in his chair as he looked between you both. “I'm gonna say this only once, and it damn well better stick. I'm not your babysitter. I’m not here to play principle over some bratty kids who can’t get their act together. Whatever grudges you may have with each other, leave that shit outside the office, and take care of it on your own time. You got me?” 

You and Gavin both gave your statements of approval, earning a single nod from Fowler. 

“Good. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous, this morning. I'm still documenting the report, and this will be a permanent mark on your record, (L/n). I ought to suspend you; don’t make me regret not doing so.” 

“Yes, sir, I understand.” 

Another nod from Fowler showed he was pleased with your compliance. “Now, if we're done with this mess, get the hell out of my office.” 

Gavin made a small sound, a click of his teeth, before turning toward the only way in and out of the office. You listened as he walked away, hearing the quiet swish of the door opening and closing with gentle pressure. Fowler's eyes remained on your unmoving form, calculating and curious. 

“Any particular reason you’re still here, (Y/n)?” 

“I'd like off of my current investigation,” you answered simply, quickly. There was no sense in beating around the bush, not when you had waited long enough to get the words out of your system. 

Fowler looked unimpressed, regardless. 

“I’m almost positive you were the one jumping to take this case, in the first place. You were rather adamant, if I remember correctly, on ensuring Reed didn’t get it.” 

“While Reed is a fantastic detective, he lacks interest and drive in cases involving androids. At the time, I felt I was a much better fit for the investigation.” 

“And yet, you want off of it,” Fowler concluded with an almost mocking, disbelieving tone. It struck a cord in you, but you didn’t have the energy to bite back as you normally would. 

“There’s been a recent development in the investigation where I…I am compromised, sir, and I can’t work it, anymore.” 

You swallowed thickly, willed your shaking hands still at your sides. 

“Compromised?” Fowler mirrored back. 

“We have reason to believe that the person we're looking for is an android. His model is the RK800, same as Connor.” 

Fowler placed a hand against his head, rubbing at the smooth, hairless skin there in agitation. You continued speaking, figuring it wouldn’t hurt your chances any more than not saying a thing. 

“Lieutenant Anderson is fine to continue working the investigation, and Connor has no issues, either. But I cannot consciously continue, knowing that I could put myself and others in danger if I hesitate in bringing down the suspect.” 

“A similar, considerate line of thinking could have saved you a lot of trouble, this morning,” Fowler stated with a bemused chuckle, though it was obvious he was anything but humored. 

“I would also like to request a short leave of absence,” you continued still, “as well as suggest Reed to take my place in the investigation. Given the turn of events, his attitude of _‘shoot first, ask questions later'_ may work to everyone's advantage, should a chase ensue.” 

“That's quite a lot to throw at me all at once, especially given your reprimand less than five minutes ago for attacking a fellow detective, the same detective you suddenly want on an investigation you previously didn’t want him anywhere near,” Fowler mused stiffly with a frown, leaning back in his chair. His lips pursed as he mulled over your requests. He looked haggard in a way only people in his position seemed to be. 

“What's your next plan of action, if I were to deny everything you just asked of me?” 

\-- 

Connor had tried not to be nosy, he really tried. You and Hank both had gotten on to him on several occasions about his uncanny ability to snoop into things he shouldn't. Hank had warned him it would get him into unnecessary trouble, if he didn’t stop, yet his curiosity had gotten the better of him time and time again. 

This time, unfortunately, was no exception, though it seemed the Lieutenant was more than okay with his sudden ability to pry. 

“C'mon, Connor, I can't read lips! What are they saying, in there?” 

Yes, Hank was definitely okay with his prying, this time. 

Connor's face scrunched up almost comically as he watched your interaction with Captain Fowler through the glass wall of his office. He had excellent hearing, but even so, your voices were muffled somewhat, the quieter conversation harder for him to pick apart. He had to rely on his eyes to pick out the words he couldn’t hear through the movement of your suddenly smiling lips. Why were you smiling when your words contradicted the action? 

“She's threatening to quit,” he spoke aloud, though even he could hear the distress hidden in his own words. Hank startled beside him, wide blue gaze looking to Connor in disbelief. 

“Shut up,” Hank nearly whispered in shock, eyes cutting back over to you staring down your boss. “Well, shit, I didn’t think she'd go so far.” 

“Captain Fowler made the suggestion of not granting her requests,” Connor stated. “She's rather adamant on not being part of the case any longer.” 

“Don't really blame her,” Hank said, voice lowering as he kept looking ahead, the slightest glare creasing his brow. “You been keeping an eye out?” 

Connor’s shoulders tensed at the question. His mind immediately conjured up Hank's message from earlier that morning and the foreboding words therein. 

_It's Hank. Don’t draw attention when you look around, but (Y/n)’s being watched, or followed, some shit like that. Has been, for at least a few days. That suspect I called in, Anthony? He was told to give her a message when he was questioned. She didn’t say a damn thing to anyone about it. Oh, and he pinpointed who attacked him. It's another one of you, Connor, a fuckin' RK800 unit gone rogue, or something. Just…just keep a lookout, and meet me back at the precinct as soon as you can._

He'd been hyper aware of his surroundings ever since Hank's message at the emergency clinic, trying to pinpoint any one moment where you and he were being followed. Knowing that it was another RK800 model, though, meant that it was likely he wouldn’t be able to detect your stalker so easily. It was a frustrating notion, but all he could do was keep a low profile and hope the other RK800 slipped up. 

“Of course,” he answered, “but I haven’t been able to detect anything out of the ordinary.” 

“Well, keep looking out for anything,” Hank said, his lip pursing slightly. “There's a reason this bastard is watching (Y/n), and we don’t have a lot of time to figure out why.” 

Connor gave a single nod, knowing full well he and Hank were on the same page. Above all else, ensuring your safety was of the utmost priority. 

He was pulled from his conversation by the door to Fowler's office opening and closing, his eyes instantly moving to you as you made your way back to his desk. He hadn’t been paying attention to the last of your conversation with the Captain, but the small smile you graced him with was enough to tell him that all had went well. 

Connor relaxed considerably, even as you reached for the stack of files on his desk, paper documents of all the evidence and testimonies from the investigation you had personally gathered over the course of the last two weeks. You gave a short huff, smile widening a fraction, and moved across the station toward Gavin, who was at his desk, sipping at a cup of coffee he had just poured from the break room. 

With a resounding _slap_ , you dropped the documents on Gavin's desk, the sound alone startling Gavin and almost causing him to choke on his hot beverage. Connor nearly had the urge to laugh aloud; Hank didn’t hesitate in his quick guffaw at the arrogant detective’s reaction. 

“The fuck? What the hell is all that?” 

You watched as Gavin wiped at the coffee drips along his chin with a wince, patting the manila folders almost affectionately when he eyed them. 

“These are the files I’ve gathered from my current investigation, every little detail that I’ve documented along the way. Figured you might want them.” 

“For…what? You tryin' to hand off your paperwork to me? After the shot you pulled? You must be out of your mind.” 

“Actually, as of about, oh, three minutes ago, I am no longer part of the investigation. You are.” 

“What?! Why?” 

The look of sheer disbelief on Gavin's face was to be expected, but it was still rather priceless. It wasn’t easy to catch Reed off-guard, but you had done so several times in the past half an hour, moreso than most anyone had managed in the past few months. 

“I needed a break,” you said simply, “and you seemed rather interested in the investigation, already, seeing as how you were on-site for one of my cases. Honestly, though, after what I did to you, you deserve this, don’t you think? All the credit, minimal work, as we’ve basically solved it. You just have to catch the suspect. It's right up your alley, Reed. _You’re welcome._ ” 

You gave the stack of files one last pat before turning to walk away, pausing and looking over your shoulder for one last push at the slowly angering detective. 

“If you need anything else, ask Lieutenant Anderson, as he'll be leading the investigation. Any problems, you can take them up to the Captain. I’m going home and sleeping for the next week.” 

Gavin was mouthing off something behind you, though no one paid any mind. Connor decided to meet you halfway with your coat and scarf already in his arms, a little on the eager side to get you home to take care of you. You grinned at him as he helped you into the warm clothing, his lips brushing your forehead sweetly. The content sigh that left you was enough to make him smile, in turn. 

He looked over at Hank briefly, who was watching the both of you with a fond smile of his own, arms crossed before him as he leaned nonchalantly against Connor's desk. 

“Everything good here, Lieutenant?” 

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” he shooed, “get your lady home. She looks dead on her feet.” 

“Good to know I look like a zombie,” you commented dryly, though there was amusement lacing your tone. 

“Shut up, and go get some sleep, kid,” Hank groused as he moved to sit at his own desk. “I can handle everything, here.” 

You thanked him and turned back to Connor, eyelids drooping considerably as you leaned into him. He was quick to wrap his arms around you, hugging you to his chest for a moment. He gazed down at you as you looked up, a soft smile appearing on both of your features. 

“Home?” he asked. 

“Home,” you answered. 

Connor urged you forward with gentle pressure to the small of your back, leading you out of the precinct and toward your car. You followed easily, humming a bit as you walked. 

All the while, unbeknownst to you, Connor continued to analyze his surroundings, eyes subtly shifting around for anything out of the ordinary. 

\-- 

Rivulets of water cascaded down your body in thin branches as you stood beneath the spray of your shower. The temperature was almost too warm, nearly scalding, but it eased the lethargic soreness in your muscles and relaxed you in a way that was hard to describe. The pink flush across your heated skin also chased away the bone-deep chill the winter air had left in you, aided by your own tired body. 

Connor had been insistent on you taking a shower, even though he had been adamant beforehand on your immediate need for sleep. He assured you that a warm shower would help you sleep better, and while you had complained briefly before being ushered into the bathroom, you were happy with his suggestion. 

Someone had to look out for you when you could barely take care of yourself, and you were lucky enough to have Connor be that rock of support, even if you were difficult to deal with, from time to time. 

“(Y/n)?” 

At the call of your name, you looked up, finding Connor standing above you through the thick fog of steam with a soft expression. You returned his gaze with your own confused one. When had you sat down in the shower? 

“I'm fine,” you assured quickly, assuming Connor might have thought you had slipped and possibly hurt yourself. He only smiled at you as he reached for the handles and turned the water off, creating a blanket of silence within the bathroom. A cool gust of air hit your flushed skin, and you trembled. Connor had left the bathroom door open, allowing the lingering steam to billow out and clear the bathroom. 

“Let's get you dried off,” Connor said quietly, reaching for a large, clean towel he must have brought in with him. He helped you stand and immediately wrapped you up, pulling you flush to him as he lifted you from the tub and onto the floor mat. You expected him to leave you to finish up, so you were surprised when he began to gently pat and wipe at the moisture along your skin. 

“I can get it,” you insisted. 

“You don’t have to,” Connor assured, looking at you with soft brown eyes, affection held within. “Let me do this for you.” 

You released a soft sound, somewhere between a hum and a groan, but nodded for Connor to continue. He did so with gentle pressure against your body, mindful of how sensitive your skin was from the heat of your shower. When he deemed you satisfactorily dry, he then helped you into your clothes, some lounge pants and a comfortable cotton t-shirt. He handed your brush over to you, thankfully, and left the bathroom for only a moment before returning with a soft throw blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. It was incredibly warm, most likely fresh out of the dryer, and smelled of the new fabric softener you had started using, pleasantly floral. 

“I was able to find some soup,” Connor said as he led you toward your bedroom, “chicken and garden vegetable. It should be light enough to settle your stomach.” 

“Can I sleep first?” you grumbled, stopping at the edge of your bed and looking to Connor. His L.E.D. flashed yellow only briefly as a frown marred his face. 

“I'd rather you eat something, first. Just a little bit, and then you can sleep.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise. There isn’t anything more I'll ask of you, today.” 

You sighed and gave your consent, barely catching Connor turn away before climbing into your bed with an appreciative groan that turned into a bout of laughter. Immediately, any remaining stress that lingered within you dissipated against the comfort of the mattress beneath you. You had spent so much time worrying over the investigation that you couldn’t remember the last time you had laid out in your own bed. Surely you hadn’t gone that long without lying down, but it sure felt like it. 

“Food first,” Connor reminded you as he entered the bedroom once more. You groaned at his insistence, but shifted yourself into a sitting position, placing one of your pillows in front of you. 

Connor carefully passed the bowl he held in his hands over to you, ensuring it was steady in your grasp and wouldn’t spill in your lap, of which you insisted wouldn't happen. He chuckled and sat at the edge of the bed, watching you slowly eat. You couldn’t help but hum every few bites, the warm broth settling pleasantly in your stomach as the chicken and assortment of mixed vegetables eased away any remaining hunger pains. Before you even realized it, the bowl was nearly empty, and Connor was more than pleased as he took away your dishes. 

You waited a moment longer for your semi-full stomach to settle, shifting about the bed to slip underneath the covers, throwing the fluffy blanket from around your shoulders to the bottom of the bed. It was warm where Connor had sat, and you found yourself slipping further down against the mattress until your head was resting comfortably against the pillows and your toes were curled in the lingering heat he had left behind. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

You peered over at Connor, who had just entered your room again. Immediately, you noticed he had removed his jacket and tie, sleeves pushed up to just before his elbows. 

“I'll be more comfy with you beside me,” you mumbled, reaching out with one hand and beckoning him closer. He didn’t hesitate, simply moved to the other side of the bed and crawled beneath the covers with you. There was some maneuvering on both your parts to find a better position, but the transition felt seamless, effortless. 

Connor's gentle eyes were locked with yours as he faced you, one of his arms thrown above your head against your pillow as the other rubbed along your upper arm. Your arms were bent comfortably before you, a hand reaching out to trace the contours of your boyfriend's face, fingers pausing every now and then to stroke across the small freckles and moles that dotted his features. The silence between you was relaxing in its familiarity. 

Connor's hand detoured suddenly passed your elbow, following the line of your forearm to your bruised and somewhat swollen hand. He carefully shifted his palm flat against yours, uncurling your fingers gently to lay flat against his own. You looked at your connected hands, watching, mesmerized, as the synthetic skin that hid the exoskeleton beneath all but melted away, revealing pearlescent-white fingers and plating. The joints of his fingers began to glow a soft blue in an action you had seen happen between android couples, an intimate sort of connection that couldn’t be replicated within human-android relationships. The sentiment was still intensely there, however, knowing that Connor wanted to be so close to you, just like other androids. 

Your heart seized uncomfortably in your chest. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” he spoke quietly, his gaze having moved to your connected hands, as well. “I love you, (Y/n). You make me unbearably nervous, and frustrated, and jealous over the most ridiculous things…but you ultimately make me happy. You make me feel _human_ , even when I, myself, am at odds with my humanity. I love you, every part of you.” 

There was a piece of you, deep down, that was extremely pleased, overjoyed by his declaration of love for you. It was hard not to see how much of what he said rang true, how he looked at you sometimes like you hung the moon and stars in the night sky, or the adoration he held in his stare when you did something silly, or said something so uniquely _you_ that he couldn’t help but grin and fall head over heals all over again. 

A bigger part of you, however, was terrified beyond belief. 

You shouldn’t have felt the way you did. Your eyes burning with bitter, confused tears should not have been an issue, and the way your lips trembled as you tried to voice those three little words back, only to have them catch violently in your throat, should not have happened. 

What was wrong with you? Why were you so afraid to say it? It couldn’t have been an issue of you truly meaning it, because you…you did. 

Didn’t you? 

Bleary eyes met those of warm honey brown, and you nearly sobbed at the gentleness they held for you. 

“C-Connor…Connor, I…I can't, I-” 

“I know, it's alright,” he shushed, disconnecting your hands and reaching for your face. He leaned in as you gripped his forearm weakly, his lips pressing reassuring kisses against your features before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to say it,” he insisted quietly, petting over your cheeks and your hair to comfort you. “You don’t have to say anything. I needed to, though. I wanted you to know where I stand, that you have all of me, for as long as you want it.” 

“B-but I-” 

“Look at me, (Y/n)” he urged, and you couldn’t help but listen as you gazed through watery eyes. He was smiling so sweetly, not a hint of disappointment or doubt hidden anywhere upon his face. It nearly made you cry harder. 

“I _know_ ,” he emphasized in a whisper, bumping his nose gently against yours. “It's alright, my love. I'm not going anywhere.” 

He pulled you into his chest, continuing to shush you as he cooed gentle words of adoration and comfort against your ear, one hand in your hair while the other smoothed up and down your back. You don’t know how long you cried against him, clutching at his white button-up desperately, but sleep beckoned you into its dark abyss as you calmed, and before you realized it, you were fast asleep in Connor's arms. 

\-- 

Waking up to a headache was never fun, but considering you hadn’t slept longer than an hour or two the past few days, you fully expect the pounding of your head. 

You groaned as you sat up in bed, reaching up to rub at your eyes and wincing at the aching pressure against your sore knuckles. Right, right, your hand was a little busted up. Probably best not to forget too often, lest you make it start aching without prompting. 

Looking around, you noticed that your room was significantly much darker than when you passed out, the sun having disappeared for the day to make way for the night, meaning you had slept the whole day away. There was a lamp in the far corner of your room that had been turned on, illuminating the area and allowing you to focus on the details surrounding you. 

The most obvious difference was that Connor wasn’t in bed with you, anymore. 

It shouldn’t have hurt so bad to realize he had left. He didn’t need to sleep, not like you did, but he usually stayed beside you whenever you were both able to settle down together for the night. The conversation before you fell asleep began circling in your head, and for a single, heart-stopping moment, your mind conjured up the possibility of Connor having left you for good. 

Sighing, you dug the heals of your hands into your eye sockets and shook your head to rid your mind of unwanted thoughts, only causing your headache to throb uncomfortably in your skull. You ran shaking fingers through your mused hair, your gaze turning to the side where you caught sight of a bottle of water and two little white pills. A smile lit your face slowly, the lightest chuckle leaving you as a wave of embarrassment at your previous thoughts flushed your cheeks in pink. 

God, but you felt silly. 

At least one of you had your mind in order. 

You reached out for the items Connor had left you, only to hesitate at the loud _thump_ of something coming from the living room rather suddenly. You looked toward your closed bedroom door, feeling your own heart beat pick up at the sound. 

“Connor?” you called out, voice cracking only slightly. Silence was your only answer. 

“Connor, you there?” you called out once more, a little louder, bypassing the water bottle and reaching for the drawer of your bedside table. Within it was one of your guns, a necessary precaution you had taken many years ago when first joining the DPD. You checked the clip to ensure it was loaded and switched off the safety, slowly stepping out of bed and moving toward your bedroom door. 

Easing the door open without a sound was no problem, and you were quick to scope out the bathroom right across the way. Another loud sound, followed by a quiet curse, had you on edge suddenly. While you had trained for situations like this, it felt completely different, having to exercise your knowledge of combat in your own home. 

Slowly, quietly, you moved down the hall with your gun raised steadily before you, trying to pick up anymore sounds that were out of place. You kept to the right wall, back flattening against it as you came to the corner that intersected one of the main walls of the living room. Taking a deep breath, you quickly rounded the corner and peered within the darkness of the open space, the only light illuminating the area coming from the television, volume extremely low and barely heard above the thrum of your heart pounding within your chest. 

All at once, your breath left you, and you lowered your gun to your side at the familiar scene before you. 

“Jesus Christ, Connor! You scared me half to death!” 

Your exclamation was light and almost quiet as you moved closer to your boyfriend, watching him stand from his knelt position on the floor. It looked like he had somehow tripped over the coffee table, something that had happened a couple of times before, usually when he was deep in thought or distracted by his own thoughts. The short, elongated table was flipped over from his clumsy stumble, the few books that had previously been on the wooden surface now strewn across the floor. 

He turned to you, the L.E.D. at his temple flickering yellow. You raised a brow at him, unable to see his face very clearly through the darkness, the light of the TV blurring your vision, and the remnants of sleep still clouding your sight. 

“What even were you-?” 

“(Y/n), get away!” 

You jumped at the garbled voice that came from behind you. Instinctively, your raised your gun and turned, barely catching sight of Connor -Connor? But how?- stumbling and catching himself against the kitchen counter several feet away, a hand pressed to his side. In that moment, you felt your stomach drop, your heart nearly jumping to your throat as your mind stuttered to a screeching halt- 

There was a brief pinch of pain, a sharp gasp leaving you, and then nothingness as your body succumbed to the darkness that welcomed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the support! It means so much to me!
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


	7. Is This The Fate We Fall Between?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget everything you thought you knew would happen, and get ready for a few surprises. This chapter is nothing but twists and turns before the heavy stuff happens, so hold on tight, and don't forget to breathe.

_Connor watched you as you slept, his gentle gaze roaming over your relaxed face in the comforting silence of your room. For the first time in well over a week, you looked truly at peace in your sleep, lips slightly parted from your slow breaths and features soft. He caught the slight movement of your eyes beneath your lids, a sign you had entered the R.E.M. cycle of your slumber, and that in itself was a comfort. Deeper sleep often coincided with better rest, and you definitely needed it._

_For a long while, he kept his eyes on you, his hands the only movement necessary as he carefully carded through your hair with gentle strokes. You didn’t even budge under his soothing ministrations, a true testament to how utterly exhausted the investigation had made you._

_Part of him was glad you had decided to drop yourself from the case and take an actual leave from work. You had a habit of stressing too hard over cases, and while your heart had all the best intentions, your body was constantly run ragged from your drive to solve each case and catch any bad guy involved as quickly as you could. Noble, but borderline reckless to your own health and safety._

_You deserved a break from the DPD._

_The other part of him, however, recognized the new form of danger in leaving you alone. Knowing that there was another RK800 model out there, watching your every move, was a concerning notion. Even moreso was the fact that Connor had no idea where the other android likeness of himself could be, or just how close he was keeping tabs on you._

_With you now off the case, he no longer had the comfort of knowing you would be right within eyesight at the precinct. You weren’t a damsel in distress, by any means, but being home by yourself with a prototype android following you around and learning your habits, possibly well aware of the placement of your hidden gun by way of Connor's memories from well over a year ago…well, that was the harrowing bit._

_Connor knew himself, knew what he was capable of without the sense of right and wrong. He knew the potential damage he could do, and it was terrifying._

_Carefully, Connor began to extract himself from your loose hold on him, doing his best not to shift you around too much. You curled in on yourself a bit as he maneuvered his way off the bed, eyes lingering on your slumbering form for a long moment. It had been quite a few hours, already, but he expected you to sleep through the rest of the evening and probably nap through the night. You would be hungry, again, and with the sudden bout of long sleep after days without proper rest, your head would surely ache._

_First things, first._

_The L.E.D. at his temple flickered yellow as he made a connection to a specific number, one he had contacted numerous times since the revolution. As he waited, he left your bedroom and quietly shut the door, so as not to disturb you, and made his way toward the kitchen._

_“Hello, Connor.”_

_“Good afternoon, Markus,” he greeted kindly, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”_

_“Of course not,” Markus answered through their link, smile evident in his words. “I was just finishing up some paperwork for next week’s conference. How are things with the investigation?”_

_“Unfortunately, things have taken a turn that not even I could have seen coming."_

_He may not have been able to see Markus, but Connor could feel the trepidation the other android felt through their connection._

_“What's this about?” Markus asked with slow, careful words._

_“It's (Y/n),” Connor answered, and immediately the trepidation turned into heated concern. “I'm afraid she may be in danger, and I don’t know if I can prevent it.”_

\-- 

Sound came back to you in distorted waves, the screech of metal sliding against metal muffled in the haze of your waking, and the shuffle of stiff fabrics almost muted. You could feel points of pressure against your wrists and elbows and ankles that kept you still, even with your sluggish, minute movements, and the chill of winter air raised goosebumps everywhere it touched against your exposed skin and burned within your nose with each icy inhale. 

Your eyes were heavy, so very heavy, and it took several attempts for you to open them fully. The ceiling above you, dark in the low, barely there illumination, was extremely high and made of iron beams and thick tin sheets, nothing at all like the white, textured tiles of your own place. This wasn’t your home, you realized dazedly. Where were you? 

All at once, awareness overcame your system in a shock of clarity as the events of what happened assaulted your brain in a rush. 

Gasping, you made to sit up, only to let out a choked, distressed sound at being held down completely. It felt like every part of you was strapped to some…some _table_. Even your neck had a thick strap of leather across it, loose enough to allow you to breathe regularly and turn to look on either side of you, but snug enough to keep you pinned and unable to fully take in your surroundings. 

The most human part of you was in a panic, wanting to freak out and scream for help. It was instinctive, a fight-or-flight response, where you were wanting to flee in the face of the unknown. The trained detective in you, however, knew the probability of help was extremely low, and that wasting your breath would only quicken your downfall. You needed to analyze your situation and keep a calm head, if you were going to figure out what was going on. 

But you already knew what was going to happen, didn’t you? 

Doing your best to even your suddenly rapid breaths, you turned your head as much as you could to the right, noticing two distinct silhouettes in the darkness before you. It was hard to make out who they were, but the two figures were in relaxed sitting positions and unmoving, most likely unconscious. Your mind instantly conjured up the images of Connor and Hank, and you both eagerly hoped they were here with you while wishing desperately that they hadn’t been pulled into this mess. 

All over again, you were forced into an instinctive panic, one that was hard to fight down the longer you remained unable to move. 

“Connor? C-Connor, Hank! Are you okay? Please, s-say something!” 

Your shuttering cries were met with silence. 

Tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back as best you could, choosing instead to become angry at the situation you were in. Distress was not a good motivator, but anger was manageable. Being angry gave your mind a sense of clarity and determination that despair and hopelessness could not. 

It was a shame your anger couldn’t warm you against the cold air about you, but you had to endure, to focus on the things you could control from your position. There was very little, but one thing kept you semi-grounded to the present. 

You knew what was coming. If your previous cases were anything to go by, you knew exactly what was about to go down. It was the whole reason you had decided to quit the case, in the first place, hoping that Anthony’s warning wouldn’t become an inevitability to your kidnapping. Regardless, your knowledge of the situation gave you an advantage the others didn’t have. A greater advantage had the potential of working in your favor. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 

Blinding light lit up your vision out of nowhere, and you instantly shut your eyes and turned away from the source with a curt shout rolling off your tongue. There was no stopping the tears from the unexpected stabbing pain of fluorescents shooting through your retinas and straight into your skull, but they eased the ache of your eyes and further chilled your ruddy cheeks. 

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I had applied too much pressure. It wouldn’t do to have you incapacitated for much longer.” 

Blinking rapidly, you chanced a glance to the opposite side of you where the voice was coming from, the timbre so very deep and clear. When you peered at the man standing above you through the halo of illumination surrounding his frame, your heart nearly stuttered at seeing Connor looking back with indifference. 

Except…he wasn’t Connor, not _your_ Connor. In fact, you were almost certain he wasn’t even an RK800 model, though it was hard to miss why Anthony and Will believed so. 

The android hovering above you was remarkably similar to Connor, but there were some minute differences that made him uniquely his own. He was broader in the shoulders, his stature more stiff, and his jaw was much more defined. His eyes were remarkably light, soft grey or blue, it was hard to tell, but they were definitely not the warm brown of Connor's gaze. In fact, there didn’t seem to be anything _warm_ about the android's presence, at all. 

You hated to admit it, even to yourself, but this android frightened you in an almost surreal way. He could easily be mistaken as Connor in the dark, and with the previous living android victims not having any nighttime optical units, they wouldn’t have been able to see the difference. 

Just like you hadn't, back at home, right before you were knocked unconscious and dragged away to some abandoned warehouse. 

“Wh-who are you?” you stuttered out, damning your voice for sounding so weak. The android tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, an act you found endearing from Connor, but almost condescending in that moment from his relative likeness. 

“I am an RK900 unit, the next, most advanced generation of android Cyberlife has… _had_ …to offer.” 

The android shifted as he looked off to the side, his hands coming up to fiddle with something you couldn’t see, and you felt as if you could breathe just a bit easier, despite your cold, quivering muscles. The sound of glass clicking and liquid pouring met your ears, but there was no other clue as to what he was doing. You could take a good guess, though, and the thought alone made you nervous. 

“I was built faster, stronger, more resilient, and equipped with the latest technologies,” he continued as he busied himself with whatever you couldn’t see. “I was meant to replace my predecessor in the workforce after the eradication of Deviancy from androids. Obviously, Cyberlife's perceived outcome did not happen, and I was left in a warehouse only few knew of, meant to be forgotten as an idea that would never come to fruition.” 

His eyes were on you just as suddenly as they had left, intense and searching. He leaned closer, a hand coming into your line of vision briefly before touching down and pinching against your jaw almost delicately. You flinched at the contact, but remained as still as your shaking body allowed you to be, eyes locked with those of curious cool grey. From your peripheral, you could see the circle of his L.E.D., blinking a soft blue before briefly turning yellow. 

“You're much prettier, up close,” he murmured, the words seemingly meant for him, but still oddly perturbing. He applied pressure against your skin, and you had no other choice but to follow the motion of his hand as he moved your head slowly from side to side. 

“Beautifully flawed. Just like in _his_ memories,” he spoke, his words shifting from almost reverent to bitter. He removed his grip from you with an air of finality, once again removing himself from your line of sight. His footsteps clicked against the concrete flooring, slow and purposeful, and you followed the sound with the shuttering turn of your head. 

He came to a pause beside one of the slumped figures in the chairs. With the light above you, you were able to make out a few details, such as RK900’s expression bordering between indifference and annoyance. The figure he stood by was easier to see, and you were immediately able to identify him as Connor, his white button-up lightly stained with drying blue blood at his side and head slumped forward. His hands were behind his back, most likely tied together, yet despite his roughed up appearance, your heart practically leaped into your throat at finally seeing him, confirming everything you already knew. 

RK900 reached up and briefly pressed two fingers to the side of the other android's face, right at his temple where his L.E.D. resided. After a hesitant moment, Connor's head shot up, and his panicked gaze almost immediately looked to you. You could have laughed with the relief you felt at his incredibly human reaction, that his first instinct, despite his own injury, was to look for you. 

“(Y/n)!” 

“C-Connor,” you breathed out, air condensing and creating a sheer fog trailing from your lips before dissipating altogether. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes running over your body for any signs of injury. He was frowning heavily, and his L.E.D. was spinning red, a true testament to his concern…his _fear_ for your safety. 

“You’re shivering.” 

“I'm okay,” you assured, but the jittery clicking of your teeth seemed loud, even in your own ears. “I'm ok-kay, Connor, I'm f-fine.” 

“(Y/n)?” 

Your gaze darted to the left of Connor, finding that RK900 had moved to the other figure that was just a bit harder to make out. Your eyes adjusted quickly, however, and a horrified gasp escaped you at the site of your dear friend. 

\--- 

_“Are you sure you won't need any further help? I can send several people over right now-"_

_“Thank you, Markus, but this will be for the best. Any suspicion of the other RK800 model knowing we're on to him, and it could have serious consequences against anything we plan. It's unfortunate, but we have to remain clueless to his potential next move.”_

_Markus sighed as he leaned back heavily in his chair, multicolored gaze looking toward one of the windows while contemplating the situation. The skyline was just starting to transition into dusk, the sun beginning to touch the horizon and slowly descend out of sight. A beautiful sight against a sobering mood._

_“If you’re certain,” he relented, and he could almost feel the tension in his link to Connor lighten considerably._

_“I am,” Connor assured. “Should anything change, I will call. And if anything unexpected happens, I'll send out a distress signal.”_

_“Thank you,” Markus said, and with a blink, the link between them cut out, and the call ended. He sighed, the action only useful in expressing himself, and placed his head in his palms._

_No one could have foreseen what was coming when you took on your investigation. Sure, Markus worried for you, as all your closest friends did. You had a tendency to throw everything into your work, and because of it, you often went through bouts of neglecting yourself. While that, in itself, was cause for concern over your health, you were suddenly in even more danger by the hands of an android, one that had been playing a very cruel game with both androids and humans, and who was, for some reason, fixated on you._

_He was thankful Connor had called him. Markus counted the android detective amongst his dearest of friends, and having Connor keep him updated on android-specific cases as well as your wellbeing proved that his trust in their friendship was very well placed._

_Not for the first time, Markus had to rely on that trust in hopes that Connor knew what he was doing._

_He looked over the remaining paperwork scattered about his desk, documents requiring signatures and final edits before the final signing next week. He wanted to tell the others what Connor had relayed to him, but it wasn’t necessarily a pressing matter. He trusted Connor to know what he could and couldn’t handle without any help, and if he believed the situation was under control, then Markus believed it, too._

_Paperwork, first, then he would find his friends and give them the news._

_It was perhaps another half hour or so before he finished everything necessary to move the documents forward. The sun had nearly completely set, the last hues of bright neon colors dissipating and making way for the darker nighttime sky. Josh and Simon had a habit of watching the sunset when it was bright and beautiful, so Markus had no doubt they would be returning shortly from their trek outside. He could go get North and wait for them to-_

_Markus startled as the door to his office burst open. He stood abruptly, watching as both Josh and North rushed through with wide eyes and panicked expressions._

_“Markus, something's wrong,” North said in a rush, her voice sounding breathless._

_“What happened?” he asked, heterochromatic eyes peering at the duo before widening a fraction. Something was off. Something was missing._

_His gaze hardened at the realization._

_“Where is-?”_

\-- 

“S-Simon?” you breathed out, feeling your heart drop into your stomach at his worried, _frightened_ stare. There was blue blood trailing from his nose, a sign he had struggled in his capture, just like Connor, and had gotten injured in the process, but he looked relatively unharmed, otherwise. 

The notion wasn’t enough to calm your nerves. 

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Simon shouldn’t have been in any part of what was happening, especially where you were certain Hank would have been sitting. _No one_ should have been involved in this messed-up game, and yet here you were, faced with two of your dearest people before you. 

Simon should have remained untouched, however, based on the previous cases. The algorithm was all messed up; the victimology had changed. 

“Surprised?” RK900 spoke, his deep timbre carrying easily through the freezing air and nearly chilling you further. “Of course you are. Rest assured, Detective, your identified pattern from the previous tests was not wrong. I merely made a last-minute decision that I felt would benefit the ending outcome.” 

You flicked your wide gaze up to RK900, his amused, lilting smile off-putting. 

“Why? Wh-why are you d-doing this?” you questioned, unable to stop your words from stuttering. RK900 tilted his head again, the action almost infuriating as it was alarming. 

“Because I _chose_ to,” was his simple reply, the gravity of his words settling uncomfortably within your mind and unnerving you further. 

He straightened himself as he moved toward you once more, footsteps ominous with each quiet click of his shoes against the concrete flooring. He stopped beside you, blocking your view of the other two androids, and raised his hand up to your face. The soft pad of his thumb wiped at the budding tears at the far corner of one of your eyes, his own grey stare oddly soft for the briefest of moments before hardening. 

“Shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your patience, as well as all the lovely comments!
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!!


	8. I Am Torn In Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute, hasn't it?! I haven't forgotten you guys, don't you worry! 
> 
> After this chapter, we've got three more to go (unless I decide to split up a chapter or something, but I don't think that will happen.) 
> 
> The ride is almost over. Will everyone be able to survive it?

Markus wanted to believe that Simon’s sudden disappearance was just coincidence, but there were too many factors that suggested otherwise. 

Knowing that Josh had been with Simon literally minutes before he up and vanished was cause for concern. There were no pressing matters that needed attending, as far as Markus was aware of, and Simon wouldn’t intentionally go off on his own without proper cause. He had excused himself for only a moment, sure, but Josh had assured that he often did this, taking a few minutes for himself before meeting up once more to head home. 

Except, this time, Simon never returned. 

Having gone back to the tiny park Simon and Josh had visited, there didn’t seem to be any trace of the PL600, nor had there been any sign of where he may have gone. It wasn’t until everyone began a broader search that North found traces of relatively fresh blue blood against a large tree near the border of the park, a foreboding feeling settling over the group at the sight of it. 

It was then that Markus received the distress signal, a few short blips of an alarm followed by the brief pop-up that Connor was the one who sent it out. Calling the detective android only caused more concern when there was no answer. He tried (Y/n), as well, but her phone merely rang and went to voicemail. 

There was just no way these events were merely coincidence. 

Recalling his previous conversation with Connor, Markus knew there was only a small window of time to find help before something bad happened. Potentially, three of his dearest friends’ lives were on the line, and though he had been the leader to a revolution that changed the course of history, he had no idea where to even begin looking without some form of higher help. 

The DPD was the first place he could think to start looking for answers. 

Entering the precinct, Markus’ gaze immediately landed upon the secretary on duty, her smile easy and welcoming as he and his friends approached. 

“Hello! Is there something I can help you with?” 

“Yes, I was wondering if Lieutenant Hank Anderson was on-duty, at the moment?” 

Her smile shifted to that of a disappointed one. 

“I’m sorry, but Lieutenant Anderson is-“ 

“That you, Markus?” 

Markus turned around at the call of his name, heterochromatic gaze meeting that of the very man he had been searching for. He was bundled up against the outside weather, clearly having just arrived, and looking only mildly surprised to see Markus at his place of work. 

“Lieutenant,” Markus greeted kindly, reaching out to shake his outstretched hand, “I was hoping I would find you.” 

“Don’t hear that very often,” Hank groused with humor as he pulled away from the handshake, looking to both Josh and North and giving a single nod in greeting, “but I can’t say I wasn’t expecting some sort of cavalry. You meet up with Connor, yet?” 

At Hank’s words, Markus couldn’t help but tilt his head in confusion. 

“We were actually hoping you might know where he is. Has he contacted you, recently?” 

The question must have thrown Hank off-guard. He had suddenly taken on a more cautious stance, eyes narrowing a fraction as he looked over the trio of androids. 

“He sent a text,” Hank explained slowly, pulling out his phone and taking a moment to pull up the messaging app. “ _‘Hank, precinct. It’s urgent.’_ Tried to call him, but the damn thing couldn’t make a connection. With all this crazy shit going on, I didn’t want to wait around any longer than I usually would.” 

“He must have known we would come here, first,” Josh spoke up from beside Markus. 

“Leave it to Connor to think everything through,” Markus responded fondly, though his tone was far from pleased. 

“What’s going on?” Hank asked, eyes shifting over to the secretary. “Hey, Jen, you seen Connor around?” 

“Not since my shift began five hours ago, Lieutenant,” she answered, causing Hank to curse sharply under his breath. 

“I knew I should’ve checked in, earlier. Fucking knew it! I didn’t want to disturb (Y/n) by calling-“ 

Hank paused abruptly, turning to fix Markus with a sharp, searching stare. Markus could only nod slowly, already knowing what conclusion he must have come to. 

“I tried both Connor and (Y/n) after Simon went missing, but neither picked up.” 

“Simon?” Hank questioned, looking between the trio before him before realization came to him. “I thought your group looked a member short. You said he went missing?” 

“He was with me at the park just after sunset,” Josh began, “but he disappeared minutes before we planned on heading back to Jericho Place. He excused himself, said he wouldn’t be too long. I didn’t think anything of it, at the time. I just figured he wanted a moment to himself, like always.” 

“We went back to look for him,” North interjected. “There was blue blood on a tree near the outskirts of the park. We think he may have been attacked.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Hank muttered lowly, hand coming up to rub at his face. “This isn’t sounding too good.” 

“It gets worse, I’m afraid,” Markus continued. “Right as we came to our conclusion, I received a distress signal from Connor. He contacted me nearly two hours prior with concerns that (Y/n) might be in danger, and that he wasn’t sure he could stop it. He said he would send the signal if something unexpected were to happen. Clearly, he had a plan in place for us to meet up, should things have gone downhill.” 

“Of course,” Hank bit out, “leave it to Connor to keep me out of the loop until the very last minute.” 

“Knowing Connor, he only wanted to save you from worrying so much.” 

“Yeah, well, fat load of good that did. Now we got three missing people and hell-all on where they could be.” 

“Wherever they are,” Markus said, “they’re in trouble, and we don’t have much time to figure out their location. Do you have any possible idea where they could be?” 

\-- 

As soon as the RK900 model turned his back, Connor closed his eyes in order to fully assess his systems. There were some slightly worrying issues, such as the audio disruption in his left ear that distorted any sounds that filtered through it, as well as the still-leaking wound at his side, though it was superficial and wouldn’t do much to slow him down, even after having received it several hours prior. The most surprising problem was his intra-connective capabilities that were his gateway to accessing outside sources, of which had been manually overridden to shut down without his given input. 

In short, RK900 had somehow disconnected him from the outside world, and he couldn’t seem to reestablish a connection. His only way of contacting some form of help from his position was suddenly shot out the window. 

Connor only hoped that he had sent out the distress signal and his message to Hank in time before his system had been corrupted. Knowing the Lieutenant hadn’t been targeted brought only a small amount of relief, but it was better than having to worry about his safety, too. 

Opening his eyes, the RK800 unit focused his gaze ahead of himself, only for his thirium pump regulator to stutter within his chest at finding RK900 hovering over you, blocking Connor’s view of your face. Fear was not a new emotion to him, though he had never felt it to the magnitude of which he did at that very moment, the embodiment of advancement above you, looming with malicious intent that threatened all present. 

“Shall we begin?” 

Connor had only wanted to protect you from this very scenario. Once he knew exactly what was going on, once he knew that you were in danger, he had made it his mission to ensure your safety from any potential harm from his assumed doppelganger. He hadn’t been as prepared to face an android meant to be his better in every way, and he certainly hadn’t anticipated being so easily taken out when forced to confront RK900 in your home. 

Any injury you sustained from here on out would be entirely his fault, and it was a fact he was quickly having to come to terms with. 

He had failed you. 

The quiet clinking of iron chains from his right caught his attention without warning, and he was instantly reminded that there was yet another person who had been caught up in RK900’s wicked game, a victim that wouldn’t have been in any part of what was happening, had he not contacted Markus, in the first place. 

Turning his head just a fraction greeted him to the sight of Simon attempting to loosen the chains binding him to his chair, perhaps trying to find some form of weakness within the links. His jaw tensed a moment later at the realization that his efforts were in vain. He attempted the motion again, regardless, ending up at the same conclusion as before. 

Simon turned suddenly to look at Connor, wide blue eyes blown with distress. 

“What do we do?” he asked, his voice barely heard, even with his close distance. His gaze darted briefly to where you lay, prone and vulnerable, and back to Connor, as if to emphasize his question, or rather, the questions unspoken. 

_How do we get out of this? How are we going to save her?_

Connor’s gaze drifted back to where RK900 continued to hover over you, just catching sight of the stainless steel table off to the side, loaded with supplies. He could make out various liquids, but was unable to identify them from his bound position. It wasn’t hard to make a good guess as to what the many beakers and small vials contained, however, taking into consideration the previous crimes committed by the advanced unit. 

Among the items, most damnably, was a lone bottle of half-empty blue blood, Cyberlife’s crisp logo catching his eye like a beacon. Directly in front of it was a collection of syringes, eight in total, of which held some sort of concoction within their thin glass, lightly tinted the same luminescent blue as the container that held an android’s very life essence. 

Even without being able to analyze properly, Connor knew those syringes contained a poison of RK900’s own design, one that the newer model type was currently reaching for, uncapping, readying. 

He had failed you, and you were going to suffer, because of _him_. 

“Connor, what do we _do_?!” 

He turned back to Simon in a numb sort of daze, aware of the blond android searching his gaze, pleading for some sort of answer. 

The PL600 would not find what he was looking for. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, his own wide gaze turning back to the scene before him. 

There was nothing they could currently do, nothing that would stop what was about to happen. The game was about one choice, and you were the only one allowed to make it. 

In a sick, fucked-up way, everything was in your hands, just as Connor’s successor had intended. 

\-- 

“Y-you don’t have t-to do this,” you stuttered out, just barely feeling the pull of RK900’s fingers against your trapped hand. He was turning your wrist until your palm was facing upward, his thumb icy cold as it slid steadily over the visible veins of your wrist, as if intent on finding the perfect one. His searing gaze moved from the point of physical contact to meet your own, his expression soft, almost sympathetic. 

“I’m afraid my choice is already set in stone,” he answered gently. You were surprised he had given you an answer, at all. 

The motion of his thumb against your skin was gentle, no longer searching, but soothing. The seconds ticked by, each one only adding to your anxiousness. 

He was hesitating. 

Why was he hesitating? 

“You know how this will end,” he continued, his cadence almost imploring in its delivery. It was as if his demeanor from moments ago had done a complete 180 degree flip, so sudden and completely unexpected that it left you reeling. How much of it was merely the android putting on a show? 

“You don’t have to suffer this pain. You have the choice to end this all before it begins.” 

“S-so do you,” you chattered, teeth clicking as you shook, fear-laced anticipation nearly overcoming the cold of winter. 

RK900’s expression changed to that of sympathy – or was it pity? Icy grey disappeared behind dark lashes for only a brief moment, and in that blink, the android’s resolve had returned. He had given you a chance at what he believed to be a way out for you. Now, there would only be pain and misery. 

“It’s unfortunate that you’ve chosen this path of suffering. You will succumb, in due time, just like the others. The only question is: how long will you last?” 

The needle piercing your skin was barely a pinprick of a pinch, but the sensation felt final, a sealing of your fate in the whole mess of a situation you were caught in. There was an oddly cool feeling that followed as the plunger was completely pressed down, the mixed concoction of blue blood and God-knew-what else rushing into and throughout your veins with every pump of your heart. The feeling began to tingle intensely up to your arm and further out, like tiny pins and needles steadily pricking beneath and against your skin…and then the _burning_ began. 

You sucked in a sharp breath as the beginnings of uncomfortable pain bloomed throughout your body, simmering embers heating your blood quickly as the created poison was carried through your system. With each second that ticked by, the intensity only increased, enough that you were rhythmically clenching your fists in an attempt to distract yourself from the acute burning sensation. 

“Five minutes,” was RK900’s ominous promise before he rounded your body and disappeared into the shadows, apparently content with watching from afar. His absence left you on full display in front of Connor and Simon, a calculated move, you were sure, that undoubtedly played into whatever psychotic game was being played at your expense. 

For the next minute, the only sounds you heard were that of your heavy, semi-controlled breaths and the pounding of your heart within your ears. 

“I’m s-sorry…Simon,” you said through gritted teeth, if only to hear something other than your pained struggles, “you weren’t…you weren’t supposed t-to be part of thi-this.” 

“Don’t worry about that, now,” Simon urged, “just keep breathing, slow and steady. We’ll figure out how to get you out of this.” 

“N-not gonna happen,” you ground out, having to pause as a particularly horrible wave of blistering heat seized your muscles for a split second, a grunt of discomfort escaping you. “My ch-choice!” 

“Wha- your choice?” 

“Only she can free herself,” Connor interjected, “just like the others we told you about in our investigation. She’s given a choice to stop all of this, but in order to do so, she has to choose to shoot one of us.” 

“That’s insane!” Simon blurted, turning to look into the darkness beyond you. “What the hell does he get out of all of this?” 

His question was something you still couldn’t explain. Things had already taken a turn you hadn’t expected, with Simon being caught up in the fray, and everything you thought you had learned during the duration of your investigation now seemed inconsequential to RK900’s motive. 

It was a bit hard for you to think about such things at that moment, too busy trying to block out the majority of the pain by focusing on your breaths, on the quickened beating of your heart, on the way Connor’s eyes caught your squinting gaze, trying his best to keep you calm in the only way he could. 

“You have to shoot me, (Y/n).” 

“What?” you breathed out harshly, the closest you could get to a shout for the time being. So much for keeping calm, as you were sure your heart could have stopped at the mere mention of shooting Connor. 

“You have to,” he insisted, “it’s the only way to ensure your safety. The less of that concoction that enters your bloodstream, the better chance it won’t have any lasting effects on your internal organs. You saw how the last victim, Veronica Muñoz, fared after four, and Lauren Waters suffered through three before the process was interrupted.” 

“Not g-gonna happen,” you forced out stubbornly, only for Connor to retort with heated words. 

“It’s killing you as we speak! Your body is being sent into a fever, and your core temperature will only escalate with every injection until your organs begin to shut down.” 

“She’s…she’s burning from the inside out?” Simon spoke in alarm. 

“I’m f-fine,” you snapped out, “I c-can t-take it, okay?!” 

“Now is not the time to be stubborn, (Y/n),” Connor began, but you were quick to interrupt him. 

“I’m n-not gonna lay here and decide who’s life is more important!” 

A low sound of distress left you after your outburst, hands clenching at your sides as another wave of painful heat rolled through your system. It seemed to be lessening, the burning, prickling feeling, but your nerves were already becoming frayed. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what the next few rounds would feel like. 

Connor remained quiet after what you said, the following silence more tense than the last. As the seconds ticked by, you could tell the effects of the poison were beginning to wane in tiny increments. The burn wasn’t nearly as bad as when it started out, just barely simmering and providing a brief reprieve from the constant sensation. It was almost bearable. 

The sound of shoes quietly clicking against the concrete floor and coming ever closer had you sucking in a breath. 

Your five minutes were up. 

Round two was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so much for your constant support, and for sticking with me this far. I'm still here, still creating, and more than excited to see this fic to the end! 
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


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